


Fine Lines

by Barricade_Boys



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Background Relationships, Boarding School, Courfeyrac Ships Enjolras/Grantaire, England (Country), Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras Is Bad At Communicating, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Enjolras/Grantaire-centric, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, F/M, Grantaire Angst, Grantaire Is A Little Shit, Les Amis de l'ABC Shenanigans, Love/Hate, M/M, Minor Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Montparnasse Being an Asshole, Nerd Combeferre, Pining Grantaire, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-04 14:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barricade_Boys/pseuds/Barricade_Boys
Summary: There is a fine line between love and hate. Enjolras and Grantaire discover that the difficult way. And Enjolras gets fed up with Grantaire's attitude.When Grantaire is partnered with Enjolras to work on a project at their school, Combeferre and Courfeyrac brace themselves for trouble. The pair learn a lot from and about one another. And from Professor Lamarque.Follow Les Amis as they attend a private British boarding school.





	1. Chapter One

*** 

London was particularly cold and Grantaire was unhappy at that fact. He frowned, dragging his luggage behind him in a huff. Grantaire, it was no lie, hated his parents. They had not showed up, again, on his first day back at school. He retorted, pushing his suitcase toward the coach and halting beside Combeferre and Joly. 

Joly's parents fussed over him, correcting his tie and brushing his hair out of his face so that it lay to the side. Seeing Joly without his usual lopsided fringe made Grantaire snigger. The boy would usually be too concerned about germs to even bother brushing his hair after it had been washed. He pushed his hand onto his mother's and sighed,

"Please Mama, I am quite alright." His voice was tired, like he had not just had 8 weeks to rest over Summer. He was slimmer, too, Grantaire noticed. Joly had lost a lot of weight. He was paler aswell, but Grantaire decided not to comment on it yet. 

"Your parents did not show again?" Marius' voice called from behind Grantaire, after waving his Grandfather goodbye. Grantaire shrugged, his mouth curving into a smirk. 

"Do they ever?" 

They did not. And all of his friends were aware of that fact, though they never asked why. They assumed different things but never asked out of fear of hurting Grantaire. They were entering their seventh and final year at school, sixth form if you were to give it it's proper term. 

For an 18 year old boy, Grantaire was strangely small. He had not grown since their third year and had given up hope of ever doing so. Despite his arguments, Grantaire's parents had sent him to a private (and expensive) boarding school as soon as he turned 11. He despised it to begin with: he had no friends within his dorm, nor his classes and hated the thought of socialising to climb the social ladder. 

That was, until one day, he met Marius in Math class.

His parents were rich. They had a nice house and had good expectations for their eldest son. Hoping that a private education would assist him in his life, his parents shipped him off to Johanne Abbey School, one of the best boarding schools within the United Kingdom. But Grantaire looked of a low class, he had dark hair and dark eyes, and unruly curls that covered said eyes as though being kempt was a crime. And so, did not seem to fit in at the school. And he felt he did not belong. 

"What do you expect of this term?" Combeferre asked, his priveleged tone coming through. Combeferre, like everyone else at Johanne Abbey, was of the upper class. He had been awarded a scholarship for the school after passing his exams with exceptional ease. His family were from the South, their heritage well known and respected within the country. 

Courfeyrac, who stood to the left of Combeferre, smiled at Grantaire with glee. He was a happy person, who was often found looking at the bright side of life. His grin was infectious. And his positive outlook rubbed off on their entire group of friends. 

"I expect it to be as emotionally draining as the last." Grantaire said. "Maybe more so, considering exams start in a few months." 

Combeferre smiled, lightly.

"You do not mean that, surely, Grantaire?" He inquired, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle. Grantaire scoffed. The mere thought of revision made him feel physically sick. And exams made it all the more worse. He had never excelled in class. Never. 

"But of course I do." He smirked. "My life is but a joke, exams are nothing for me." 

Combeferre wanted to argue that exams are the most important thing to focus on this year, but decided not to waste his breath. Grantaire would not be swayed by him. Courfeyrac nudged Combeferre, pointing at Feuilly. 

"Do you suppose those are his foster parents?" He asked, his eyes glittering under the light of the station. They were a dark brown colour, almost black. But somehow, they glistened brighter than even Grantaire's blue pair. 

Feuilly hugged the two people in front of him before walking over to the group. 

"Yes, they are my foster parents." He said, as though he could read their minds. "And yes, they are better than the last." 

"They did not hit you?" Courfeyrac tilted his head with concern.

"No. They did not." Feuilly stated. "Though, the others did not either." He said, with a small snigger.

"But you said-"

"No, you said. And I did not deny." Feuilly said, leading to Courfeyrac to open his mouth to, no doubt, say 'I told you so' to Combeferre. Feuilly stuck his finger up, speaking with a small grin curled on his lips: "nor did I confirm." 

Feuilly lost his parents to an infectious disease when he was just a child and was placed into care. He defied all odds to be offered a scholarship at Johanne Abbey School and was always proving his worth within the walls of the school by coming out at the top of the class, alongside a few of his friends. None of which were Grantaire. 

"Christ." Marius whispered, his voice coarse. He pointed over to a man stood in the corner of the station, his arms folding around a small boy. From the hug fell Bahoral, whose attention was drawn from his father by a running boy. Jehan pounced into the group, his arms wrapping around his friends with glee. 

"Boy, I have missed you lot."

Combeferre laughed, flinching himself out of Jehan's grip. Joly coughed, wiping his sleeves. And Grantaire smirked. 

"You seem particularly chipper." Bahoral said, walking over to Jehan with a light snigger. 

"I am, for we go back to school today." 

"I do not see that as something to celebrate." Grantaire stated, taking a sip of his water. He straightened his tie, its blue tones matching his blue eyes. 

"Good morning." A warm voice spoke from behind Grantaire, making the brunette freeze. He spun on his heel and grinned, a cheeky grin that could only mean trouble. In front of him stood Enjolras, whose red tie flamed the passion in his eyes. His blonde curls sat comfortably in neat spaces like they were glued there by God himself, and his posture was straight. 

"You are late." Combeferre's lips turned up. 

"By a minute, perhaps." Enjolras stated, his tone perplexing Grantaire. "I had to catch a train, but alas, it was late. By a minute." 

Combeferre laughed, pulling Enjolras into a friendly hug. Enjolras' posture did not stir, however. He remained still, even as Courfeyrac joined in. 

Combeferre, Enjolras and Courfeyrac had been friends since they were children; their parents close because of their shared wealth and status within the local community of Chelsea. They had attended the same school since they were old enough to start climbing the educational ladder. 

"Did your parents not bring you?" Courfeyrac asked, making Enjolras stiffen. The blonde crossed his arms across his broad chest and turned his nose up. 

"No, they did not." He said, plainly. And Grantaire could have sworn he heard a pained tone strung ambiguously into his words. But if he had, Enjolras did not falter. 

"You could have come with us." Combeferre stated, as though the invitation had been offered before. 

"I would not have wanted to intrude-"

"Why would he go with you and your parents? They would smother him, and the man likes to breathe." Courfeyrac teased, making Combeferre flush a red colour. He squinted his eyes.

"Very funny, Courf." 

"This is the last time we will be doing this." Jehan said, breaking Courfeyrac and Combeferre up from their play fight. And Grantaire suddenly felt a tinge of sadness rush over him. It was, indeed, their last September trip to school. And this was their final year. 

"Yes, and then we can leave to go to university. I for one, cannot wait." Combeferre smiled, making light of the situation. 

"If you want to bore yourself with more dull years of education, sure." Bahorel spoke with a smile. 

"You speak as though you do not already have an unconditional place at Cambridge." Combeferre squinted his eyes.

"Do not remind me." Bahorel rolled his eyes and threw his case into the coach. He was a smart man that was so humble about it that he did not even realise that he was so smart. He did not care for learning. And Grantaire envied his ease. 

"I, for one, will not be going to university." Marius said. "It is far too much hassle."

"Nor will I. Because I am not smart enough and will surely fail my exams." Grantaire piped up, making his friends glance at him. 

"If you put the effort in, perhaps you would not fail." Enjolras scrunched his nose at him, his stance firm. Grantaire scowled. Enjolras was a selfless man, who hated nobody. Except the British Government. And Grantaire. 

"Or, perhaps, I would waste hours of my life and still fail." Grantaire responded in a calm, genuine tone. Enjolras huffed, crossing his arms. 

"Has anyone noticed that Bossuet is not here?" Marius spoke.

"Nor is Gavroche." Courfeyrac said.

"Gavroche is 12. He won't be on our coach anyway." Feuilly stated.

"Oh, he would find a way to be." Courfeyrac grinned. 

At the time of his first year, Gavroche had been picked on by the rest of his year because of his upbringing. He was from a poor family in London and had been offered a place at the school because of his abusive past. They believed a good education would be the answer to his problems. But he was bullied and he hated it. Until Courfeyrac stood up for him once and the boy leached onto him and his group of friends and their ideals. The group liked Gavroche, he was the eyes and ears of their group. When they were out after hours, it was Gavroche that would tell them the best spots to meet. 

Combeferre suggested they all get onto the bus, and so they did. He, Courfeyrac and Enjolras sat at the back of the coach. Enjolras had his legs folded, his back against the window. And he was facing Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Courfeyrac's legs lay across Combeferre's lap. And his head was against the window. 

Grantaire sat in front, sharing a compartment with Marius. Joly and Jehan sat together. And Bahorel waited for Bossuet. Feuilly sat alone, reading his book. 

"You are cutting it fine, are you not?" Feuilly looked up. Bossuet was puffing, his lungs filled to their capacity. He sat down beside Bahorel and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Did you run a marathon?" Grantaire asked, his usual jest making Enjolras roll his eyes. 

"Just from the carpark." He said, with a smile. "I am unfit, Christ."

"Why are you so late?" 

"I was saying goodbye to-"

"To your girlfriend?" Marius asked. 

"If you had let the man finish, he would have bloody well said who to." Grantaire punched Marius slightly, making the other man frown. 

"Yes, to her." 

Musichetta was a girl that Bossuet had met in the summer of the previous year. He was smitten with her. And she was with him. 

"Can we have one journey without talking about love?" Combeferre asked, his fingers tracing along Courfeyrac's legs. Courfeyrac laughed. And Enjolras shut his eyes, not opening them until they reached the school in the fields and green of the countryside.

Johanne Abbey was a well-respected school within an old, abandoned castle. It's history traced back decades and the school had built itself up to be one of England's finest private schools, with most students surpassing the table and graduating the school with A grades. Such an education came at a cost. And it was a large cost. 

Most students at the school were 'up themselves', in Grantaire's humble opinion. Their parents all had fortunes that they liked to show off at any given opportunity. At first, Grantaire had believed that all students at the school were like that. Until he met Marius. And then he met Marius' friends. And he found that he could fit into the school after all.

***

The Main Hall was large, and decorated with candles and wall art about always 'being the best'. It had once been the Castle's feasting room. And Grantaire despaired at the idea of one man having all this room as his people in the villages below starved, reminding him of Enjolras and his stupid ideas. Grantaire shook his head, sitting down on the table beside Marius and opposite Courfeyrac. Enjolras sat between Courfeyrac and Combeferre, Joly on Courfeyrac's left. 

"I cannot believe I have Geography first thing on a Monday." Joly moaned. 

"Hey, so do I." Marius stated. 

"I have Maths, I believe that is worse." Grantaire sighed. Enjolras looked at him with a scornful expression. He had Maths, also. As did Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Bossuet, Feuilly and Bahorel and Joly. Marius and Joly were the only two to take Geography and had Maths seperately.

"Oh, that is worse." Joly gritted his teeth and laughed. 

"At least you are with us." Courfeyrac winked, kicking Grantaire from the opposite side of the table. 

"Ouch." He winked.

"Oh, I forgot to mention that you are the only person that took Ethics, Enj." Combeferre said. "From our group." 

Enjolras flushed, looking annoyed at the fact. Grantaire met his eyes, reading his expression. 

"I took Ethics." He said, in a small voice. 

Enjolras glanced at him, looking at his expression. Grantaire's eyes had shot down, refusing to look at the man that stared at him with a confused expression. 

"But you hated Ethics?" Marius spoke, making Grantaire frown.

"Actually, it is one of the few subjects that I am okay in." He stated. 

Enjolras took note of the word 'okay'. He had noticed over the years that Grantaire was always putting himself down. And it stung to see a man so bright always dampening his own spirit. Though, Enjolras never helped. He could be spiteful and say some crued things to the poor man. Over the years he had called Grantaire 'useless', 'pathetic', 'childish'. But he never meant them. Not really. But he would never admit that out loud.

Enjolras struggled to converse with the man. He was cynical and shared no interest in his ideals. 

"Good." Enjolras hesitated to speak. "I would hate to be alone." 

Grantaire scoffed at that. 

"I would have thought you would prefer no company than my company." 

Enjolras blinked, his throat drying slightly. 

"Company is always better than none at all." 

"Except, perhaps, if the company is a murderer." Grantaire said. Enjolras rolled his eyes and buttered his bread, placing some cheese into it and cutting it into thirds. "The great Apollo is to grace me with his company in Historical class." 

Enjolras bit his lip. 

"Do not be a child, Grantaire." 

"I am no child." Grantaire spat. 

"No, but you act like one."

"And you are no greater than I." Grantaire said. "Yet you act above me." 

"Child." Enjolras pursed his lips together, his eyes narrowing. 

"Prick."

"Right, well I am going to my dorm." Enjolras said, not touching his sandwich. He picked up his pile of books and left. Combeferre sighed heavily at the exchange. It was no change, the two of them were incapable of getting on. 

"I thought we could have had at least one meal without you two getting at each other's throats." 

"That could never happen." Marius said. "Not so long as they are both alive."

"It has been a long day, I am going to my dorm." Courfeyrac said, inviting Combeferre and Jehan to do the same.  The three of them, plus Enjolras, had shared a room since first year. Courfeyrac picked up a few pieces of bread and followed his friends out.

Enjolras sat on his bed, his legs crossed as he read the paper. He took out his pen and started the crossword puzzle, having already finished the suduko. 

"Here." Courfeyrac said, making him look up. "You forgot to eat." He placed the bread upon the bed and sat down on his own bed. 

"You should not let Grantaire get to you." Jehan stated. 

"I do not." Enjolras lied. It did hurt when Grantaire called him names. He did not ever understand why they fought. But he was not going to put a stop to it. It was their dynamic. And Grantaire made him mad.

"Professor Thatcher wants to see us tomorrow morning, Enj." Combeferre said. He frowned at the name, still hating that her name was the same as the 80's prime minister he despised. 

Professor Thatcher was their head of year. And she was stern. She hated Enjolras with a passion. She was a proud teacher, a teacher that taught Politics. And Enjolras' passion to hate the Government made her wrathful. 

"Brilliant!" Courfeyrac smirked. "I need to be there to see this."

"To see what?" Enjolras raised an eyebrow. 

"You will see." Courfeyrac smirked.

***

"Prefect?" Enjolras spat, his cheeks burning crimson. "You want to add me to your structure of corruption? No way - absolutely no way." 

Professor Thatcher's nose hooked, her hooded eyes burning into Enjolras. She was a tall woman, slender and witch-like, as Grantaire had described her. And she was cruel. She glared at Enjolras with a callously cold glare. Courfeyrac covered his mouth with his hand, a laugh threatening to bubble from his throat. He stood at the door, listening to the exchange and imagining Enjolras' expression. 

"Mr Enjolras, calm yourself." She snapped, her tone malicious. Combeferre stood in the corner with his head shaking. "It was no decision of mine, if it had been left to me then I would have thrown you out of the school, not given you a badge." 

Enjolras was shaking, he was furious. 

"You are a prefect." She said, handing him a badge. "And you have the Headmaster to thank for that." 

Enjolras snatched the badge and the envelope and sighed, strolling out of the room with a frown on his face and a rant brewing in his head. 

"Thank you, Miss." Combeferre bowed, accepting the badge with a smile. This was a dream come true. He had always wanted to be a prefect. 

"Actually, Combeferre." She said. "I want you to hand this badge to Joly." 

Combeferre blushed, ashamed at his misreading the situation. 

"Oh."

"No, do not look so dampened." She said, her tone kinder now that Enjolras had left. Courfeyrac had watched him rush off to the Dining table. "I am giving you this tie instead." 

Combeferre's mouth fell agape. 

***

"Prefect - I can not believe it." Enjolras ranted. "I hate social structures, and she knows that. She has done this deliberately. She wants to see me suffer." His voice was loud, most people able to hear him. "Standings such as this are abused everyday in the real world. It needs to be stopped. I want no part of it." He put the badge down on the table, biting into his sandwich with flames still forming in his mind.

"You will not be abusing your power, though." Jehan tried to appease him. 

"No, but I-" Enjolras continued to argue. And Grantaire tuned out. Anyone else would have been glad of the opportunity to boss other students about. But, of course, Enjolras was too busy trying to argue that the whole thing was a farcé. Selfless idiot.

"Congratulations, Combeferre!" Jehan cut off Enjolras, making the blonde boy look up at Combeferre's tie. He swallowed hard, his eyes wide.

"Thank you." Combeferre said, taking a seat opposite Enjolras. "I know, I know, I am giving into their struct-"

"I am pleased for you." Enjolras spoke, surprising everyone. "Well done." 

"Thanks." Combeferre smiled, bashfully ignoring the fact that Enjolras was not actually as pleased as he should be. 

Grantaire squinted his eyes at Enjolras, his glare making the blonde uneasy. 

"What?" Enjolras snapped. 

"Nothing, oh great and mighty Apollo." He teased, curving his mouth. "Nothing at all, Apollo." 

"Why do you feel the need to call me that, I am no God." Enjolras snarled, making Grantaire snigger.

"No." He nodded. "Then why do you act like one?" 

Enjolras clenched his jaw, enraged.

"Oh, come off it." Marius whined. "Nobody can be bothered to listen to your petty squabbles so early on a Monday morning." 

Grantaire placed an egg onto his toast, cutting the yolk so that the yellow liquid would run onto his bread. He smirked, knowing Enjolras was sat opposite him fuming. Enjolras looked down at his paper, reducing himself to a smaller space. He bit his lip, reading about a man that had been redundant because he was no longer able to pay his rent after falling ill and being written off by his workplace. It was stories such as those that made his blood boil, his hands shaking with frustration. 

"I overheard Professor Madeleine earlier, apparently the Ethics class this year is smaller than any other year in the history of Johanne Abbey." Feuilly said. Madeleine was the head of their dormitory. If anything ever went wrong within their common area, he would be the one to deal with it. 

Enjolras and Grantaire's eyes met for a split second, and Grantaire felt his heart beat heavily against his chest. He swallowed hard, dreading the class he had chosen specifically to spend time with Enjolras. Of course, he was interested in Ethics. It was a fascinating subject, and he was surprised at the lack of interest from his friends. They were all so idealistic, usually, so it came as a surprise that they did not take a class designed specifically around the study of controversial matters. 

Though, he enjoyed the idea of spending an entire class alone with Enjolras. He could see the man argue his points about said matters without having to see him break rules or laws.

Because Enjolras had certainly done that in his time. He was an argumentative character. And he was always fighting against one structure or another. 

"There were discussions to take the subject off of the curriculum." Jehan said, making Enjolras clench his jaw. 

"They could not do that." Grantaire said. "The subject is much to important." Enjolras glared at him, a dumbfounded expression striking on his face. "And - it is the only class where you can sit and doodle and not get told off." 

"Lamarque is far too leniant with you on that front." Courfeyrac shrugged. "No other teacher would let you get away with that." 

Grantaire smirked.

"I agree with Grantaire, the subject is much too important to be dropped." Enjolras said, receiving an exasperated look from three of his friends: Marius, Combeferre and Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow each. And Grantaire cleared his throat. 

"Apollo agrees with me. That is a rare occurance." He took a sip from his mug, the warm milk soothing its way down his throat. Enjolras scoffed, his eyes burning into Grantaire. 

"You are rarely correct." 

"Of course, you are rarely incorrect." He rolled his eyes, pouting his lips in a challenging way. Enjolras did not rise from it and instead stirred his coffee, refusing to even look at the food in front of him.

He focussed instead on the man sat in front of him with a scornful expression. 

"We best get to class." Combeferre said, packing Enjolras' things away for him out of knowledge that the boy would forget to do so and make them all late to Math class.

Once there, Professor Leblanc placed them into an alphabetical seating plan. Thankfully, their surnames all lay in relay of one another. 

"Jules, beside Leal." Bahorel cringed at his name. Meaning 'youthful', Jules was a name that he had always hated. And Bossuet hated his in return. Leal meant 'loyal', and though he was thankful it meant something nice, he hated the sound of it. 

"Lucky you, getting to sit with the top of the class." Bossuet joked, making Bahorel choke a laugh. Bossuet was terrible at Maths.

"Coyan and Carel, together please." Courfeyrac smirked, his cheeks preening. Combeferre nudged him, taking his seat beside Courfeyrac. 

"Even after all these years, you laugh at my name." Combeferre said. 

"Coyan." Courfeyrac sniggered, the name rolling off his tongue as Combeferre's eyes did. "It may mean 'modest', and it may suit you, but Christ is it hideous." 

"I do not believe Carel is much better." 

"I'm just so 'strong'." Courfeyrac teased, his eyes bashful. Combeferre rolled his eyes. 

"Emeric, beside Travers." He asked. Enjolras sat down beside Feuilly. Feuilly despised his name. It meant 'crossroads', and Jehan had once joked that it was because nobody ever knew where to send him. He was unsure of whether it was his real name or not but despised it either way. 

Grantaire had scoffed when he found out Enjolras' name was 'Emeric' in first year. His name literally meant 'leader', and it was the most hilarious thing. He could not escape his destiny. Even his name had burdened him to a life of leading other into revolution.

"René, you are sat with Sevrin." Grantaire's stomach churned as he sat down beside the boy he had to share a desk with. He had dark, dead eyes and chiselled cheekbones. Grantaire's name was rather boring, meaning 'reborn'. The only thing that was reborn was his hatred for Montparnasse everytime he saw him. 

"Just my luck." He muttered across to Enjolras, whose eyes were fixated on Grantaire and his unfortunate partner. 

"Morning." Montparnasse's mouth curled into a crooked smile. Grantaire spat, his voice cold:

"Do not speak to me." 

"Ouch." Montparnasse acted hurt. "It is good to see you still have your wit, shame that. I thought being beat up last term would have knocked you down a few pegs." 

Montparnasse was a bully. He prided himself on being better than everyone else, or so he thought anyway. The only thing he was better at anyone else at was being a dick, nothing else. 

Grantaire sighed. He hated Maths as it was. This was just going to make the lesson even less bearable than it already was. He put his head in his hands, cocking it, and stared at the clock, counting down the minutes to freedom.  
   
***


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! 
> 
> I hope that this story is as fun to read as it is to write. I adore writing the dynamics between Grantaire and Enjolras so much. I just hope I'm doing them justice! 
> 
> And thank you for reading!

***

Professor Lamarque placed a piece of paper down onto the desk in front of Grantaire and Enjolras, his hand lingering there a little longer than it had upon anyone else's. It read 'Capital Punishment' and instilled something in Enjolras, stirring his instincts. Grantaire frowned at the words, glaring at Lamarque with inquisition. 

The class was small, only 8 people had taken Ethics as an A Level. And Grantaire was glad of the fact, in a way. He sat beside Enjolras. Lamarque adored Enjolras, he had spirit and brains. He was the ideal Ethics student. Grantaire, however, was not. Though, his pessimistic views came in useful against Enjolras' realistic opinions. Sometimes. So that was something. 

"For this project, I would like you to work with your partner to research and put together a portfolio based upon the topics I have given you." Professor Lamarque said, his voice boring Grantaire. Lamarque was a good teacher; he was driven and kind, but his voice was old and boring. And Grantaire was bored of it. "I would then like you to collect as many opinions on the matter as possible." 

Enjolras stirred in his seat, shaking his head at the thought of having to work with Grantaire on a project. The man was unruly. 

"You may start your plans now." 

Grantaire prepared himself, shaking his pen. He looked at Enjolras to see that the man was already standing up, walking to Lamarque with pleading eyes. 

"May I work alone on this, Sir?" 

Lamarque stared at the student in front of him with disconcerting faith. He smiled at his favourite student and patted him on the back. 

"Working with another person will be good for you, Emeric." He stated, his voice wise. "Use one another's strengths." 

"Grantaire has no stre-" 

Lamarque turned away, refusing to listen to those words. Enjolras bit his lip, walking over to Grantaire and getting his notebook out of his bag. 

"Right. So we are to do this my way, or no way at all-" 

"Of course." Grantaire nodded. 

"And if you do not want to do it my - excuse me?" Enjolras' eyebrows met in the middle, his head cocking, making the blonde curls bounce to the side a little. 

"I cannot argue with Golden Boy." Grantaire shrugged, making Enjolras flush. "We do it your way. I am yours to command, Apollo." 

Enjolras scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. 

"Are you incapable of taking even a simple conversation serious?" 

"A conversation with you, oh wondrous Apollo, is never 'simple'." Grantaire smirked. Enjolras noticed his eyes dazzle with jest, his pupils dilating at the mere thought of getting on Enjolras' nerves. 

"Can you be serious, then?" 

"I can." Grantaire said, no mocking in his throat this time. "Perhaps, if you chose to notice me other than when I am joking around, maybe you would see that. If you got off your high-"

"You are forever joking, it is hardly my fault." Enjolras defended himself, feeling his fists clench. He studied Grantaire's expression and saw the man's smile turn to a frown. He looked down, scribbling into his book without another glance at Enjolras. 

"Am I to assume that you will be doing all the work?" He asked, his voice sounding desperate. 

Enjolras sighed, faltering. 

"If that is as you wish-"

"It is not about what I want." Grantaire chewed the inside of his mouth, feeling the skin break. The taste of blood lingered a while, tasting somewhat like the metal part of his pen. If Combeferre had known he was wondering about the taste of metal, he or Joly would have explained it was the iron level within his blood that he was tasting. But they were not there. And he looked to Enjolras. "You are Apollo, you make the decisions and I will follow you." 

"Grantaire, that is not how a partnership works." Enjolras said. He would have preferred to work alone, that was no lie. But to see Grantaire put himself down so terribly was not alright. And it did not sit well with Enjolras. "You and I will work on this together, for we are in a partnership." 

It may not be how partnerships worked in reality, but it was how their partnership worked. Grantaire followed Enjolras into anything. He would die for the man if he had to. Not that he ever would burden Enjolras with that. He was worthless. And if Enjolras were to die, it would be for something. Grantaire dying for Enjolras would mean nothing at all. 

"You already have your idea. We will run with that." Grantaire shrugged, appreciating the sentiment but feeling no different on the matter. 

Enjolras blinked, clearing his throat. 

"Do you know what 'Capital Punishment' is?" 

"Do you think me a fool?" Grantaire spat. "I listen in class, Apollo."

"Stop calling me that!" He snapped back, making Grantaire jump. Lamarque shook his head from afar. These two boys were impossible, which was why they had been partnered together. Grantaire smirked, feeling Enjolras tense beside him. "I apologise, I did not mean to snap - I just - I am no Apollo, okay?" 

"Okay." Grantaire smiled. Enjolras allowed his face to become less tense, his mouth smiling a little. "Apollo." 

Enjolras sighed, his head hitting the table hard. He shook his head, wrapping his arms around his ears and tuning out from the world. It was late on a Monday afternoon and this was their last lesson before dinner. He could not be bothered to argue anymore. 

"Research will be slightly easy." Grantaire spoke in a deep tone, taking few breaths before each new sentence. "It will be collecting opinions that will prove a challenge. Because each person's opinion will be subjective to what they themselves will have bared witness to." Enjolras looked up, catching his eyes staring at Grantaire. He noticed the absence of wit and saw the genuine intelligence of the man with brown, messy curls. "Some people have tough lives, and they may know of the topic because they have had to go through a situation in which the feeling that the punishment should be used came up. Others may have no idea and may be prejudiced because they have no experience the detrimental effects a crime punishable by death." 

"Right." Enjolras nodded, allowing his jaw to close at last. He swallowed. 

"I think, maybe, the best thing to do before we even begin on this project together, is to discuss our own views on the matter. If you want to, I mean." 

"Right, yes, of course." Enjolras said, still dumbfounded that Grantaire actually cared for this topic. 

"That was your queue to explain your views." Grantaire invited, his face plain and unreadable.

Enjolras choked, his tongue running along his teeth as he glared at Grantaire. 

"You have put me on the spot here." Enjolras stated, clearing his throat. Grantaire scoffed, as if this man had not already got a conclusive opinion on the matter. "Why do you think I ought to go first?" He tilted his head. Grantaire rolled his eyes. 

"I did not. Would you prefer I go before you?" 

"No." Enjolras said. "I just - okay. Here it goes." He took a sip of water, twiddling his thumbs as he spoke. He was looking down, refusing to meet Grantaire's, no doubt, judgemental gaze. "Contrary to what you might believe of me, I do not think the 'capital punishment' should ever be used." He said, surprising Grantaire. He had thought that Enjolras would agree with the death penalty. He had struck him as that sort. He was always talking about 'bringing down' the politicians and 'shooting them' as a declaration. "Do not look at me like that." He ordered. Grantaire had furrowed his eyebrows. "I merely do not agree that any man has the power to decide if another should live or die." 

"Murderers do that all the time." Grantaire stated, taking Enjolras by surprise. The man was actually making a valuable contribution to the debate. 

"Yes," he said. "And they face their punishment in prison." 

"But some people view that sentence as not enough." Grantaire pointed out. "Some view the death of a man as the ultimate punishment." 

"How can it be?" Enjolras quizzed. 

"Right, because a punishment is put in place to instill discipline. And a man cannot be disciplined to follow and obey an order that he will never have the opportunity to follow." 

Enjolras let a genuine smile form upon his face, glaring at Grantaire with a little bit of respect. 

"Then you agree, the death penalty is wrong?" He asked, feeling his heart beat quickly against his ribcage. It seemed strange, but Enjolras found that if Grantaire did truly believe the same, then he would respect him a lot more. 

"No." Grantaire's word cut through his hope. "If completely honest, I do not have much of an opinion on the matter."

Enjolras sighed, shaking his head. 

"Of course you do not. A cynic such as you could never have an opinion." He packed his book and pen into his satchel and stood. "I will see you at dinner." 

"Right." Grantaire sank into his chair, feeling his chest ache. That could have gone better. 

***

Courfeyrac combed through his hair with his fingers, nodding every so often to show that he was listening to his rambling friend. Combeferre sat at the edge of Enjolras' bed. 

"What was Lamarque thinking?" Combeferre asked. Enjolras lay on his bed, his arms folded as he long legs stretched over the edge of his bed. 

"It was going well." Enjolras said. "We were getting somewhere, I truly started to believe that Grantaire was not such a bad partner to have, after all." 

Combeferre nodded, clicking his fingers as he flicked through the next page of his textbook. 

"He is not all bad, Enj." Courfeyrac offered, recieving daggers from Enjolras. His fingers ran down his face, wiping the muck from his face with a cloth. "Actually, you seem to be the only person that does not get on with him." 

Enjolras retorted, throwing a stress ball in the air. 

"He just - he infuriates me. He has no drive, no goals and no ambition."

"Those things are not your concern, though. He is fun." Courfeyrac shrugged, walking over to Enjolras' bed and leaping on top of his friend. 

Enjolras rolled over, as Combeferre jumped upon them both. Courfeyrac's eyes widened as he clutched onto the Combeferre's arms. 

"Christ, just knock me out of bed, 'Ferre." 

Enjolras laughed a little, shutting his eyes for a while as his two friends squabbled, playfully. This was how the three of them spent most of their time. And for some reason, it was usually Enjolras' bed that they chose to lay on together. 

"Come on, get up. It's dinner time." Combeferre said, some thirty minutes later. Enjolras sighed, throwing his arm around Courfeyrac. 

"I am not hungry - you go without me." 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac looked at each other with concern. They each took one of Enjolras' arms and pulled him out of bed. 

"Please, leave me be." He moaned, cooing into Combeferre's ear. "I do not want to go for food." 

"You know you cannot skip meals, Enj." Courfeyrac stated, holding Enjolras up alone now as Combeferre injected his thigh with insulin. 

"You need to get better at taking care of yourself. We will not always be around." 

Enjolras scoffed. 

"You sound like my mother." He said, straightening himself out and wincing at the pain of the needle. He had suffered with Type 1 Diabetes for years, since he was diagnosed at five. And he was stubborn, he'd forget to inject himself or eat enough or sleep it off. So his two friends swore that they would look out for him. He was grateful for their concern. But it was growing tiresome.

"Come on." Courfeyrac wrapped his arm around Enjolras' shoulders, struggling a little as he always did to reach his height. 

Marius, Joly, Jehan and Grantaire were already sat at the table when the three of them arrived. Enjolras dumped himself down opposite Marius, feeling slightly faint at the lack of food he had eaten. Grantaire did not look over to him, he shoved the mashed potato on his plate down his throat instead, leaving the lamb. 

Enjolras took one look at the food on his table and felt his stomach churn. He was a vegetarian and had sat right next to the chicken. The grease was off putting and he could barely even look at it, his face paling. 

"Eat, Enjolras." Combeferre whispered, pushing his plate closer to him. 

"Not that." Enjolras shook his head. Instead, he reached for a small bread roll and sliced it, eating minimalistic amounts.

"Oh, come on. You cannot eat nothing all day and then just eat a bread roll." Courfeyrac said, mothering him. Grantaire watched the exchange with a confused expression painted upon his face. 

"Leave me be." Enjolras snapped, eating his bread. 

"We will make you eat, you know we will." Combeferre had said. And Enjolras had rolled his eyes in response.

Marius twiddled his thumbs, his mind preoccupied. He had seen a girl earlier that day outside of the school gates at a Chess Tournament against the local girl's school, 'Proundville Academy for Girls'. 

"I do not know how you deal with him." Jehan said to Joly, who was sat with his head in his hands. 

"I have a terrible migraine." Joly spoke, his eyes heavy. 

"I am not surprised, having to listen to Marius moan about some girl he met today." 

"I am not moaning. I am merely stating that she is the most beautiful woman on this planet, and she beat me at Chess so gracefully." Marius shrugged, stuffing chicken into his mouth and chewing loudly. Enjolras hated Marius' eating habits. He ate like a boar. And it was not helping his already queezy stomach. 

"Actually - I think I am coming down with something." Joly said. 

"Or - perhaps - it is the nerves." Jehan smiled, offering his worrisome friend a little nudge. "You are not going to die."

"I am not so sure." Joly said, looking up the clock.

Grantaire threw a small pen at Marius' head. 

"Give it a rest." 

Marius blushed, continuing to eat his plateful of meat. For a man that never ate anything healthy, Marius was ridiculously slender. He stuffed roast potatoes down his throat, the greece racing down his chin. Enjolras closed his eyes, resting his head on Combeferre's shoulder. 

"Lamarque pulled me over today." Grantaire pulled him back to reality, making Enjolras startle. He stiffened, straightening his back and putting his bread down. He had barely touched it.

"And?" 

"He spoke with me about our project. He was checking that you had not strangled me yet." Grantaire let out a small laugh. "He suggested we go to the library tomorrow night, gather some research." 

Enjolras scorned. He glared at Grantaire with dampening eyes. Any other time, he would be glad that his partner was showing such an interest in the project. But spending more time with Grantaire seemed too much of a chore. 

"I have prefect duties tomorrow night." He said, his voice unusually mousy. Grantaire looked down at his twiddling thumbs and nodded. 

"Right." 

"I have done some research alone, though. Just a little." 

Combeferre rolled his eyes, chancing a look at Courfeyrac to see that he, too, was shaking his head. Enjolras was impossible to please: Grantaire was trying. 

"Attention." Professor Madeleine called from the front of the hall, his posture straight and professional. He glanced around the room, searching for someone in particular. "Apologies for disrupting your lunching time. The Headmaster would like to say a few words." 

He introduced Professor Valjean, the man standing tall above the students of his school. He wore a waistcoat that slendered his usually muscular form, his hardened features looking softer. 

"Good evening, boys." His voice carried through the entire hall. "I also apologise for interrupting your mealtime. But there is something I must do, as your Headmaster. I would like to take this time to welcome you all back to Johanne Abbey for another year of education." Enjolras stirred in his seat, shuffling to put his head back onto Combeferre's shoulder. "As Headmaster, I would like to introduce to you, this year's Head Boy and his team of Prefects. Combeferre, please come up here." 

Enjolras' head shot up from its place on Combeferre's shoulder, throwing a shady glance at his friend. 

"Did you know about this?" He quizzed, nudging Combeferre. His friend just smirked, standing up and pulling him up with him. Joly followed in suit, his head still banging. Grantaire rolled his eyes, Enjolras dragging his feet behind their Head Boy. Courfeyrac sniggered. 

"He did know, you know?" 

"So did Joly." 

"Why did Enjolras not?" Grantaire asked, halting. 

"They thought it would be funny to see him stutter in front of the entire school." Courfeyrac smiled. 

Grantaire felt his stomach turn, feeling awkward for Enjolras. He looked small standing beside the Headmaster, almost puny. 

"I will introduce your Prefects to begin. This is Videl Joly." 

Joly took a step forward. 

"Hi, I'm Videl. As Professor Valjean just stated." He started, his anxiety clearly showing. Joly hated public speaking. He had tried to prepare a speech all day. But failed. And it was showing. "If you ever need anyone to speak to about - about anything that - may be bothering you. Then I - I will be there to see that you are okay." 

Enjolras looked around the room at the faces below and scurried through his brain about what to say. 

"Thank you, Videl." Valjean said, patting Joly on the back and telling him to go and stand back. He pulled another boy forward. "Sevrin." 

Montparnasse took a step forward. Enjolras scorned him, questioning every one of Valjean's motives for giving such a horrid person such a title that he could easily abuse. 

"I am Montparnasse. If I ever hear anyone other than a Professor call me by my first name, I will personally see to it that it is the last thing they say." He warned. Grantaire frowned. Good start. "I joke, of course." He said, his voice cold. "Being prefect is an honour that I hope to bide well, perhaps I will do it better than others." He turned to look at Enjolras.

Enjolras frowned at him, arching his eyebrows. Joly bit his lip. 

"Thank you, Sevrin." Valjean showed him to the side, him walking over to sit beside Joly. 

"Hello, Videl." He smirked, his eyes dark and lacking kindness. Joly shuffled, moving away from the man with cheekbones sharp enough you could cut yourself on them. 

"Emeric." 

Grantaire felt himself look up, his eyes landing on Enjolras. He looked godlike, the light in the room catching his eyes and making them glisten. 

"Right." He took a step forward, standing on the podium with ease. "I am not well liked within this school because I have ambitions that surpass those of any ordinary student. And I can be difficult to talk to, according to my good friend Combeferre over there." He pointed at Combeferre, making him laugh. "I can assure you that you are in good hands under Coyan's leadership. And if he ever abuses his power, I will form a revolution to overthrow him personally. Friend or not." 

Professor Thatcher shook her head. Enjolras was a difficult boy. And she was certain that he would be the one to cause trouble this year. Giving him the power to do so was all on Valjean. 

"Thank you, Emeric." Combeferre laughed. "I can promise you all now, that I will be working for you as Head Boy. I will be doing my duty to ensure that you all have an enjoyable experience here at Johanne Abbey." 

Grantaire kept his eyes on Enjolras. The boy sat down beside Montparnasse and frowned at him. Montparnasse sniggered, whispering something - Grantaire assumed - cruel. Enjolras' jaw clenched. And he stood up and raced out of the hall. Courfeyrac stood, running after him.

"What was that about?" He asked, once they reached their room. Enjolras huffed, lying on his bed. 

"I am tired." He said, stubbornly. He covered himself with his duvet and curled up under the blanket. Courfeyrac sighed, climbing onto the bed beside him. 

"What did that prick say to you?" 

"Honestly, Courf, he said that I was pathetic. It does not bother me. I feel unwell." 

Courfeyrac felt his forehead, he was freezing. He walked over to the kettle, switching it on. 

"I am making you some hot chocolate." He said. Enjolras moaned.

"Let me sleep." 

"No." 

Combeferre entered a few moments after. Jehan followed swiftly behind, Marius trailing with Joly and Grantaire. Bahorel and Bossuet both had detention for missing their homework deadlines, otherwise the entire group would be together. 

"Is Enjolras moping because you did not tell him about the speech?" Joly asked, sitting down in his usual chair. Enjolras remained buried under his bedding, his eyes closed and his body curled. 

"I think Enjolras is just moping." Courfeyrac laughed, making Marius snigger. 

"I know not why you laugh, Marius." Feuilly smirked. "You have been moping about all day because you miss your beloved Cosette." 

"I miss her a lot-" 

Grantaire grabbed one of Enjolras' pillows and launched it at Marius' head, knocking the other man back a little. He then sat on the edge of Enjolras' bed, being careful not to disturb him.

"Do not start again." He begged. 

Courfeyrac threw his legs onto Combeferre's bed, watching as the other man undressed himself for bed. He buttoned his pyjama top with ease, his fingers lacing through his dusty hair. He clambered into bed beside Courfeyrac and pulled the duvet over himself. 

The boys sometimes did that. They often stayed over in Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Enjolras and Jehan's dorm room. It had become a regular occurrence. And Enjolras had grown to despise the idea. He could never get any privacy like this and he hated sharing his bed. So he chose not to. And made Marius share Courfeyrac's bed with Joly, Courfeyrac and Combeferre together, Bossuet and Jehan in Jehan's and he in his own. Grantaire and, Feuilly and Bahorel slept on the floor with a pile of pillows borrowed from their own room. 

"Ouch." Feuilly threw a book from under his spine. "I hate it down here." 

"Then go back to your own room." Enjolras muttered, knowing his words were a dig at him. 

"Nobody could ever share a bed with Apollo, Feuilly." Grantaire taunted, making Enjolras sit up. He scowled at the smaller man on the floor. "He is too mighty."

"I thought I asked you to stop calling me that." He growled, his patience running thin. Grantaire smirked, his voice full of cheek:

"You told me to stop and I chose not to listen." Grantaire mocked. "Apollo."

"You infuriate me." 

"Honestly, the feeling is mutual, Apollo." Grantaire lied. Of course Enjolras did not anger him. He was mad at himself for loving such a selfish fool. Enjolras turned over. "Anyone else would offer to share their bed." 

"I am not asking you to stay in our room, Grantaire." Enjolras gritted his teeth. Grantaire thought that was a point well made. They had decided on their own terms to stay in their room. Enjolras owed him nothing. 

"We always stay here, though." Feuilly said. 

"You do not have to." Enjolras replied.

"It is nice for us to spend time together though, is it not?" Marius asked, from his bed in Courfeyrac's. 

"I am merely stating that you do not have to make me feel bad for not offering to share my bed." Enjolras rolled over, turning to face the wall. "But if you are so concerned, Grantaire, you may join me." 

Combeferre nudged Courfeyrac to make sure he had heard that right. The other man nodded, a slight snigger forming. 

"Feuilly, come up here." Marius said. 

Grantaire folded his arms. 

"I was not asking you to actually give up your space." He spoke. "I was just making a point." 

"The offer is there." Enjolras rolled to face him, placing a pillow down beside him. "If not, I am sure you can make do on the floor." 

Grantaire scoffed, remaining on the floor. He did not actually want to burden the beautiful man that was offering him a place in his bed. He fell asleep there, on the floor, cold and alone. And Enjolras wondered why he was so stubborn. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be uploaded in a few days!
> 
> Let me know what you think of the story in the comments below, I really appreciate your words and kudos so thank you! ❤


	3. Chapter Three

***

Enjolras woke before the rest of his friends, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He looked at the clock: 2:34am. He turned to look at Grantaire on the floor. He looked solemn and peaceful; his breathing quiet. He stood, aiming to leave the room and go to the toilet. His feet were heavy beneath him, his body aching from not eating. 

Grantaire turned in his sleep, startling Enjolras a little and making him trip, falling beside the smaller man. 

"Sorry." He breathed, standing up. Grantaire smiled. 

"It is okay." He said, turning over and closing his eyes. 

"Will you get up?" Enjolras asked, his whisper quiet but still harsh. Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I just - why are you sleeping on the floor? Get your stuff and sleep in my bed, if you want." 

Grantaire almost choked. 

"Please. You should not be on the floor." 

"I do not mind-"

"Grantaire. Come on." He offered him his hand, holding it out. Grantaire accepted, clasping his fingers within his. Enjolras smiled, looking directly into his eyes. 

"Thank you." 

"Goodnight." Enjolras said, smiling. 

"Night." 

***

Courfeyrac and Marius sat down at the dinner table, their eyes both following Montparnasse as he passed. 

"I do not usually hate people but that boy is made to be despised." Courfeyrac said, watching as Montparnasse sat down beside his three friends. He caught him looking, catching his eyes. Montparnasse had dark circles around his, looking as though he had not slept in years. He scowled, grinning evilly at Courfeyrac. 

"I agree." Joly said, rubbing his hands with sanitizer. 

"What is wrong with you?" Marius asked, as Joly's alcohol infused liquid stank out the entire area. 

"Oh, that makes me want alcohol." Grantaire sat down. "I need a pint." He admitted. "Or maybe some vodka."

"It is 7am." Joly shook his head. 

"Yes, I am aware." Grantaire smirked. 

"Alcohol is bad for you." 

"Really?" Grantaire frowned. "Then why are you constantly rubbing it against your skin?" He raised an eyebrow. "Anyone would believe you to be an alcoholic." 

"If they had not met him, perhaps." Marius shrugged, shovelling scrambled eggs and bacon onto his plate and then into his mouth.

"You are a boar." Grantaire growled.

"I did not say anything remotely boring, then." 

"Boar. Like the animal." He laughed, nudging Marius. Marius blushed. 

"Oh, right, maybe so." Marius said. "Hey, how is your project going? The one with Enjolras?" 

"Okay." Grantaire said, bluntly. 

"Hey! I heard Enjolras is struggling in History." 

"Professor Madeleine is a little tough on him." Grantaire said, he had noticed it since the start of the year. "He is a lot tougher on Enjolras than anyone else in our class."

"Because Enjolras is a good student." 

"So is Combeferre. But he does not pick on him often." Grantaire shrugged. "He must be feeling the pressure, is all I mean." 

"Enjolras can cope with the pressure." Marius said. "If anyone can, it is definitely him."

Grantaire was not so sure.

"Perhaps if he was not such a gobshite, the professors would go a little easier on your little pal." Montparnasse's voice called from behind, making the four of them snarl. Courfeyrac stood, spitting in his face:

"Back off, Montparnasse." 

"Yeah Schnitzel, back off." Grantaire mocked. Montparnasse's fists clenched, grabbing Grantaire by the throat. "Oh no." He cried, sarcastically. "Are you going to kill me?" 

"Never call me that again, dick." 

"Oh, at it with the cheap insults." Grantaire laughed. "I am wounded." 

"Montparnasse!" Professor Madeleine barked. He dropped Grantaire, making the shorter man fall on his seat heavily. It felt bruising. "My office, now." 

"Bye Shit-zel." Grantaire's mouth curved. 

"You should stop mocking him." Enjolras folded his arms, surprising Grantaire. He looked scornful. And Grantaire shrugged. 

"He insulted you, Apollo." 

"That makes no difference." He was mad, Grantaire knew. He failed to meet his eyes. 

"I just - I thought even you would appreciate someone fighting your corner." 

"I do not appreciate it." 

Grantaire rolled his eyes. 

"Of course you do not - you are too far up your own ar-"

"You could have got hurt." Enjolras cut in. "I do not want you getting hurt for me." 

He sounded sincere. Grantaire met his eyes, he looked unkempt. And that was terribly unlike Enjolras. 

"Any of you." Enjolras broke off, staring at Courfeyrac now. "Nobody fights for me, okay?" 

They all nodded, knowing it was best not to argue.

***

Lemarque stalked around the room, his eyes falling upon Enjolras. The man had taken to writing notes, scanning through the book in front of him as Grantaire watched. 

"Am I to assume that Emeric is to do all the work?" He asked, his voice startling Grantaire out of his fixated glance. 

"Actually, Professor, Grantaire has done most of the research so far." Enjolras defended him, making Grantaire feel warm. Enjolras gave him a small smile, a rare occurance that Grantaire had grown to appreciate. 

"Very good." Lamarque applauded. "If you believe it to be of any use, my office is free. I know you hate to work with a classroom full of people." 

Enjolras looked at Grantaire, trying to read his expression. Grantaire was looking at him, also. He smiled, offering his hand. Enjolras nodded, taking it within his and following Grantaire into the office and locking the door behind him. He noticed, then, the tightness of Grantaire's trousers and how well his blaiser complimented his slender figure. Scorning himself, he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. 

"It was nice of Lamarque to offer us the office." Grantaire spoke.

"He often allows me to use it." 

They set themselves down on the floor, continuing their work in silence. Until they both attempted to break it at the same time, speaking one another's names. 

"You first." Enjolras said.

"No, you first, Apollo." 

Enjolras ignored the nickname and began:

"I was just wondering why you have taken such an interest in this project." 

Grantaire frowned, throwing his pen down onto the floor and glaring at Enjolras with fury. 

"Do you think me that incompetent?" 

"No, that was not what I was insinuating." Enjolras said, putting his pen down in return. "I just - you are taking this topic immensely serious. And before you accuse me of being callous, I merely mean that you seem to be enjoying the topic." 

Grantaire shuffled. He enjoyed the company a lot more than the work. Was Enjolras that oblivious? Clearly so. 

"I do not know, perhaps it is because I get to work with someone as high and mighty as yourself, Apollo." 

"Be serious." Enjolras gritted his teeth. 

"I am never not." 

"Right." Enjolras rolled his eyes.

They fell into silence again. Until Grantaire cleared his throat. 

"My grandfather committed manslaughter." He said. "And my Mother told me that he was on trial for murder." Enjolras looked at him with arched eyebrows. "He got off the charge because he paid the judge." 

Grantaire was ashamed, Enjolras noticed. His body language had shrunk.

"I have never told anyone that, Apollo, so if it gets out then I know who it was." 

Enjolras nodded, placing a hand on Grantaire's knee. 

"You can trust me not to say a word." 

"Thank you." He grinned, exposing his crooked teeth. "It is not something I am proud of. My grandfather killed a man and paid for it to be forgotten." 

"Money used as a weapon." Enjolras nodded, understanding his shame. 

"Sometimes, I think about what it would be like if he had been sent to prison." Grantaire said, no longer thinking about where he was or who he was speaking to. "See, I think I would be better off if he had been put away." 

"How so?" Enjolras tilted his head.

"Because-" Grantaire stopped himself. "Look, I am not going to burden you with my issues."

"I am not asking you to." 

Ouch. Grantaire felt that. 

"They are no burden, anyway." Enjolras smiled, his fingers still placed on Grantaire's leg. "If you wish to speak of your life, feel free. I am hear to listen." 

"Thank you, Enjolras." 

Enjolras smiled, a genuine one that Grantaire rarely saw. His cheeks bubbled when he did so, his teeth glistening in the light. He had a nice smile. He should do it more often. 

"I am always here for you, Grantaire." Enjolras spoke like coffee, warming Grantaire's insides. "If ever you should need me." 

Grantaire's breathing hitched as he stared into Enjolras' eyes. They were pools of beauty and perfection. He found himself sinking, looking at Enjolras' lips with a burning desire to press his own against his. He leant in, feeling his forehead touch with the other man's, their curls falling within one another's. 

And then Grantaire pulled away. 

"I - er - best get to English." He stood up, prompting Enjolras to do the same, towering over Enjolras like a beautiful god.

"Right, and I to French." Enjolras looked down at his feet, awkwardly. 

Grantaire nodded, picking up his bag and racing out of the room. Enjolras stood, shaking in his stance. 

***

Marius and Enjolras had been partnered together in French, much to Enjolras' dismay. He liked Marius because he was a good friend. But he knew, from speaking to Feuilly, that he would be talking of nothing but Cosette. 

"Are you alright?" Marius asked, his hand tapping Enjolras back to the classroom.

"Yes, sorry." He whispered, trying desperately not to be heard by Professor Montpercy. Even if they were heard, Montpercy would let them off, being Marius' grandfather. Marius hated French as a topic. But took it because his flesh and blood taught it. 

"You look unwell." 

"Thank you." Enjolras rolled his eyes. He had not eaten today, he had forgotten to.

"Have I told you about Cosette?" 

Enjolras huffed, tuning out. He watched the blackboard through dazed eyes, listening only to a few words Marius said. 

"And I get butterflies whenever I think of her beautiful blue eyes, or her lovely curls." 

Enjolras scorned himself for thinking of Grantaire then. His pooling eyes that Enjolras often found himself drowning in, his dark curls that complimented his cheekbones. And his nose, which was a little too large for his face but made it work regardless.

"I am in love with her." Marius said.

Enjolras shot up, his arm knocking his bag off the table and making everyone turn around. He flushed red, picking it up. 

"Sorry." 

"Please refrain from talking in my class, Emeric. You could use listening." 

"Apologies." He had no energy to argue that it was, in fact, his grandson talking. 

He swallowed, thinking back to Marius' words: the everlasting thought of the woman he adored, who he could not get out of his mind, her eyes, her curls, her face, her voice. Enjolras closed his eyes.

He felt that way for Grantaire.

***

Courfeyrac's legs tangled within Combeferre's, his chin resting on the end of Enjolras' bed. Enjolras was not back, yet. It was getting late. Combeferre continued to read, clearly not as worried as Courfeyrac. 

"He is still not back." 

"Neither is Jehan-" Combeferre had started, to be interrupted by Courfeyrac's biting tone.

"But Enjolras is never late back." 

"He may be speaking with-"

"What if he has fallen unwell again? And has collapsed again?"

Combeferre laughed, small but a laugh was still there. He sat up, shuffling over to his friend and wrapping an arm around him, forcing Courfeyrac to do the same. He put his head in the crook Combeferre's neck and sighed. 

He loved this man. He adored Combeferre. But, alas, Combeferre was not interested. Courfeyrac had, though always loving Enjolras and Combeferre the same, had a little thing for Combeferre. Enjolras was his best friend, he could joke with him and laugh and argue and snuggle. But Combeferre was his best friend, also. 

"He will be fine." Combeferre smiled, kissing Courfeyrac's forehead.

Damn that man, Courfeyrac shivered. He melted into Combeferre's hold, clasping his friend's hand. Combeferre was a man of education, who could make anyone feel safe even when they were not. He was a special person. 

"I love you." Courfeyrac said, his eyes drifting closed. Combeferre took in the scent of his shampoo and stroked his hand through his hair, allowing Courfeyrac to fall into a sleep. 

***

Grantaire sat with his legs crossed, staring out of the window at the fields below the school. He came here often, to forget about exams and to relax alone. He thought of home, the prison-like walls that entrapped him when he left the safe vicinity of the school. 

"There you are." Enjolras' voice snapped him out of his trance. 

"I am in no mood to discuss the death penalty, right now." He snapped. Enjolras frowned, twiddling his thumbs.

"May I sit?"

"Apollo, I have told you before, you do not need my permission to do anything." His tone was poisonous, and it stung Enjolras. "You are free to do as you please. I follow you blind." 

"Stop that." Enjolras begged.

"Stop what?" 

"Putting yourself down." 

"Oh come off your high horse, Enjolras. You have never stopped to care for anyone but yourself before. Why are you starting to now?" 

Grantaire had his book out now, writing down notes about the Vietnam war. Enjolras sat down on the windowsill opposite him, refusing to look at the man. 

"I do not understand why you despise me so much." Enjolras said, making Grantaire stop writing. He looked up at him, his eyebrows arching at the other man.

Enjolras' tone was desperate, his voice wavering. And Grantaire could have sworn he physically heard Enjolras' vulnerabilities all flush out at once. The man had always seemed to have none, as Grantaire had them all. But he seemed lost in this moment. And it made Grantaire feel terrible. Because, even though he had always been aware of his Apollo's inability to process love or affection, it seemed that the man had misunderstood everything that Grantaire had ever said or done.

"You believe that I hate you?" The words sounded ridiculous to Grantaire. He would laugh about it, if it were not for Enjolras' expression. He nodded, biting back the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes. He had not wanted those words to form in his mind, let alone be spoken. "I could never hate you." 

Enjolras stood up, turning away from Grantaire and taking a deep breath, trying his best to compose himself. He had never felt so vulnerable in his entire life. And it was embarrassing. 

He spun on his heel, turning to face the brunette boy. The very sight of Grantaire's confusion made Enjolras feel sick. He paled, his mouth turning dry. And walked off, leaving Grantaire to watch him in confusion. 

***

Combeferre smiled at Enjolras from his bed when the other man entered. Courfeyrac was still asleep in his arms, him still cooing and rubbing his back. Enjolras jumped into the bed beside them, curling up in a ball. He put his head on Combeferre's thigh and closed his eyes. 

"Where were you?" 

"I do not want to talk about it." Enjolras said, his voice small. Combeferre sighed, feeling his forehead: freezing. He pulled the blanket over the three of them and tucking himself against the pillow. 

"Jesus." Jehan said, walking in. "You three are inseparable." 

"You can come join us if you like." Combeferre laughed. Jehan shook his head.

"I would not dream of intruding on your little threesome." 

"How is Marius holding up?"

"Oh, do not ask." Jehan undressed and climbed into his bed. "You all know I am one for romance, but that man takes it too far. He is obsessed." 

Jehan was a hopeless romantic, much to Courfeyrac's disdain. He had tried so hard to pair him up with many different girls, even going as far to try get him with males. But had failed. He insisted that he wanted to find the right girl in his own time. And that was fine. But he moped around, jealous of everyone that found love. Bossuet got most of the moping, because of his loving relationship with his girl. Jehan was envious and jealous. 

"I spoke with Bossuet and Marius jumped in, talking about Cosette." He explained. "It is Éponine I feel bad for." 

Èponine was Marius' friend and Gavroche's older sister, in Cosette's year at Proundville School for Girls. Before her parents were arrested for fraud, they had paid for her private education. And she was bright. She was Jehan's friend, also. And had befriended the group of friends through Jehan and Marius. 

She was devoted to Marius. Her heart belonged to him. Jehan assumed it was because he was the first man to ever give her any attention. Because Marius was nothing too special, in Jehan's opinion. And Marius had been writing letters to Éponine asking about Cosette. 

Stupid, really.

But Marius was unaware of any feelings that Éponine had for him. So that was something.

"I am sure she will find someone better than Marius, to be honest. But it must sting." 

Enjolras stirred on top of Combeferre. 

"Can we have one day where we do not talk of love?" He spat, the word falling from his tongue like burning ash. Combeferre laughed.

"Enjolras is also salty that he has not found anyone."

"I am not." Enjolras stated. 

"No, Enjolras just does not care for happiness." 

"Enjolras would not know love if it hit him in the face." Courfeyrac grinned, his eyes opening slightly from his slumbering state. 

"Oh, and you are so well acquainted with the feeling?" Enjolras clenched his jaw.

"Yes." Courfeyrac said, sitting up. "It feels like you are being forced into a volcano, there is warmth there whenever you are around that person that makes you feel so unbelievably safe." He looked directly at Combeferre, the other man looking at him with a smile. "But there are flames that are forever threatening to swallow you. Because you are afraid to open up and tell them how you really feel." 

Enjolras looked at him, puzzled. He huffed, unable to think of a response and shut his eyes, turning away from his friends. 

Combeferre continued to stare at Courfeyrac, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. 

"I love you too, you know?" 

Courfeyrac laughed, planting a small kiss on Combeferre's lips. Enjolras smiled to himself. It had taken long enough. 

"Can you go onto your own bed if you are going to be-"

Combeferre threw a pillow over Enjolras' head, his lips still with Courfeyrac's. 

"Shut up, Enj." Jehan said. 

Enjolras smirked. 

"I am happy you finally stopped pining. Christ, it has been unbearable." 

"Just shut up, Enjolras." 

Enjolras sighed, clambering over friends. Jehan smirked. 

"I am going for a walk." He shrugged, wrapping a jacket around himself. He expected Combeferre to argue about the time, saying it was out of hours and he should be in bed. But he did not. 

***

Professor Lemarque's office was quiet, and Enjolras often found himself sitting in there. He liked time alone, time to think about everything.

"Ah, my boy, you gave me a fright." Professor Lamarque startled, shutting the door behind him. Enjolras had been sitting in the pitch dark, with nothing but a small candle lighting his area. He looked up the old professor and smiled:

"Apologies." He shrugged, flicking the hair from his face. 

"Not to worry, Emeric." 

Enjolras figgeted, crossing his legs. The Professor's grey hair glowed against the candlelight, sitting down at his desk. 

"Do you wish to speak of your problems, my boy?" 

Enjolras shuffled. He often did this. He would come here when he hit his darkest points. And he would talk them over with Lemarque. And the man would help him as best he could. 

"I am just thinking about exams." He said. "I am worried, if I am honest." 

"Emeric. You have absolutely nothing to be concerned about. You are a bright child. And you will go far." He reassured him. "And it is perfectly normal to feel like this, as you well know." 

Enjolras nodded. 

"I just - everything is going to change so suddenly. I will not be seeing you anymore. And I will be expected to leave and go to a university." 

"You will do well at university." 

"I know." Enjolras said. "But I do not feel ready to - to leave my friends." 

"Emeric." Lemarque handed him a small smile. "Your friends never truly leave you." 

Enjolras looked at Lamarque and glistened a small smile. 

"How are you, Professor?" 

"I am well, Emeric. Thank you." Lamarque said, writing marks on essays as he spoke. Enjolras respected him beyond words could say.

"Did you hear about the refugee crisis in Calais?" Enjolras asked.

Lamarque nodded. 

"Indeed I did." He said. "Tonight is not the night to be speaking of politics though, boy." 

Enjolras would often speak with Lamarque about political matters because they shared similar views: they both believed that the people in power were abusing their titles and allowing those with less to suffer without even a glance at their pain. 

"Have you decided to which university you will apply?" 

Enjolras frowned, sighing. He had given it some thought. But he found himself torn. 

"My parents want me to go to Cambridge." He explained. "Because it is closer to home." 

But Enjolras did not want to go to Cambridge. Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Joly were all going to Oxford; Joly and Combeferre for medical studies and Courfeyrac for law. Wanting to apply for Oxford or Cambridge was always difficult. Because the rules state that a person can only apply to one of the prestigious universities. And his parents would slaughter him for deciding to go to Cambridge. 

"Honestly, I do not know what I am to do." 

"Follow your heart, Emeric. Do not let your parents waver your decision. This is your life." 

Enjolras preened, smiling a little. 

"I was speaking with René about university." 

Enjolras' ears pricked. Grantaire had never stated he wanted to go to university. 

"He is going to apply for Aberystwyth-" 

Enjolras felt his heart sink. Grantaire wanted to go to Wales? It ached his heart, for some reason. And he felt himself deflate. 

"-to study Art." 

He was happy for Grantaire, of course. He was going to do something he loved. But he hurt like hell. And he had no idea why. He sighed, feeling his emotions threatening to overflow. 

"I apologise, Professor. I must go to bed." He said, dismissing himself. Lamarque sighed, understanding. 

"Goodnight, Emeric." 

"Night." He raced out of the room, walking down the corridor alone and cold. It was a dark night and the stars were glistening above. 

"Well, well, well." He heard someone say, turning. Montparnasse's snigger was cruel, his eyes narrowing as his mouth curved into a smile. "Fancy seeing you out of bed and out of hours too. Yikes." 

"I was speaking with Professor-" He stopped himself, knowing that it was against the rules to be out of hours, even with a professor. He scowled. "You, yourself, are out of bed out of hours."

"I am on Prefect duty though. So." Montparnasse laughed, crookedly. 

"Bore off, Montparnasse." 

"I heard you had a little row with Grantaire." He sniggered again. "Not like him protecting your honour? He is like a little guard dog." 

Enjolras flushed. 

"You are embarrassing yourself, Montparnasse." 

"Oh." He laughed. "Silly me." 

Enjolras tried to pass, bumping into Montparnasse. The taller man pushed the blonde against the wall, crushing him slightly. 

"Never underestimate me." He growled. Enjolras tried, and failed, to wiggle free from his grasp. This was becoming ridiculous. He had overpowered his Father's grasp more times than he should have had to, why could he not release himself from this boy? He collapsed onto the floor in a heap, his legs giving way. Montparnasse laughed. "Pathetic." 

Enjolras watched as he walked away, catching his breath and sighing heavily. He hated that man. He despised him. 

"Emeric." Lamarque called from the end of the corridor. "Get yourself to bed. Montparnasse will not get away with that." 

Damn. He saw. He rolled his eyes, standing up in a dizzy state. He let his legs carry him off to bed, his head spinning. He felt faint, falling onto his bed with an exasperated sigh.

His last thought before sleeping: Grantaire's crooked smile.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the delay in posting. But I went to see Les Misérables. And I have fallen in love with it again.
> 
> Can you do that? Fall in love with something twice?
> 
> Well, I did. And I am so in love.


	4. Chapter Four

***

Montparnasse's breathing was heavy beside Grantaire in their Math class. He frowned, rolling his eyes as he tried desperately to listen to Professor Leblanc's droning words of algebra. Feuilly was writing notes beside Enjolras, his hand aching from writing so much in such a short space of time. 

"Now, René, can you please factorise '7b + 14'." 

Grantaire huffed, writing the expression down and working it out. 

"7, bracket b plus 2 bracket." 

Enjolras looked to Leblanc to see if that was correct. A small nod from the professor astounded him. Enjolras despised maths. And he despised algebra the most, particularly factorising. And Grantaire had just done it so simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"You got lucky, that was easy." Montparnasse's words were like venom. 

"You are just jealous of my intellect." Grantaire replied, his mouth curving into a smirk. 

"You are not intelligent."

"Okay, Schnitzel. Whatever you say."

"You are going to pay for that." 

Grantaire scoffed a laugh, glaring at Montparnasse. 

"Sure." 

He tuned out for the rest of the lesson, sitting with his eyes catching on Enjolras, whose expression was pained. Grantaire knew he hated maths but he looked like he was in physical pain because of the subject. And that made him snigger. 

"Thank you class, do not forget your homework." Leblanc said, waking Grantaire from his stare. He stood, packing his items into his bag and walking out of the classroom. Montparnasse's hand caught his upper arm, pulling him back.

"Say what you said to me right now, again." He invited, to which Grantaire responded with a spit. Montparnasse pushed Grantaire into the wall, his hands around his neck. 

"Let him go, Montparnasse." Combeferre ordered, his 'Head Boy' tie glistening. Enjolras pulled Montparnasse back, making him drop Grantaire. 

"You are losing your touch, Schnitzel." Grantaire teased, his voice cold. Enjolras shot him a glance and held Montparnasse back. 

"Let me hit him, fuck sake." He tried, forcing Enjolras around. His fist clenched. "Fine." He stopped fighting against Enjolras, making the other man loosen his grip. Then, he turned. And punched Enjolras straight in the nose. Before walking away. "Another time, René." 

Enjolras rolled his eyes, his bloody nose shining crimson. 

"You should not provoke him." Enjolras said, as Grantaire handed him a tissue.

"He irates me." 

"He irates everyone. But nobody else ends up being strangled." 

Grantaire sighed, holding the tissue to Enjolras' nose. 

"I am sorry you got hit." 

"It is nothing I am not used to." Enjolras frowned, taking the tissue from Grantaire and holding it himself. 

Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding what Enjolras meant by that. He watched as the blonde stalked away, walking beside Courfeyrac. 

***

Madeleine was particularly blunt to Enjolras in History, his questions particularly difficult. And Enjolras was in no mood to answer questions. And so, he did not.

"Emeric." Madeleine's tone was crued. "I asked you a question." 

Enjolras stared, blankly at him. He huffed and rolled his eyes. Combeferre bit his lip, knowing what was about to happen. 

"If you are unable to keep up in my class then I would like to ask you to leave." 

Enjolras scoffed. 

"You have purposefully come over to me, to ask me a specific question, even though you can see I have a nosebleed, to target me and embarrass me in front of this class." Enjolras shrugged. "Do you truly believe that I should leave your class because I did not answer your question?" 

"Get out, Emeric." 

"Actually, I would quite like to pass History this year." Enjolras remained seated, his face serious. 

"You failed last year because of your inability to listen in my class." 

"I failed because you failed to teach me." Enjolras argued, scornfully. "You cannot bully me out of your class. You have no power to do such a thing." 

"You are like a leach." Madeleine growled, making Enjolras snigger. "I am merely asking you to leave." 

"I shall get Valjean, then." Enjolras' eyebrows raised as he stood up, his arms in the air as a surrender. 

Madeleine swallowed, his voice shaking.

"Do so." He said. Enjolras smirked, knowing Valjean would take his side. He packed his satchel, wrapped his blaiser around himself and walked out of the classroom. "Right, now that that he has been dealt with, we can get on with the class." 

"Excuse me, Madeleine. But could you explain what Enjolras did wrong?" Grantaire put his pen down, stopping his doodling. 

"You cannot call a student a 'leach'." Professor Valjean waltzed into the room, putting his hand on the table. His eyes were accusing. "It is uncalled for, Madeleine." 

"You are going to do this in front of my class?" 

"Emeric, sit back down." Valjean said. "You are here to teach my students, Madeleine. You are not here to argue with them because you do not agree with their policies." He snapped. "Of which have nothing to do with why Hitler wanted to invade Poland." 

"Yes, Headmaster." 

Valjean gave Enjolras a small smile before walking out of the room. Madeleine's eyes caught Enjolras', his face becoming flustered. 

"You are nothing but trouble."

"Sir, can you please just tell us about lieblingsraum? And of Hitler's-" 

"Shut your mouth, Emeric." He snapped. 

Enjolras sank in his chair again, his head in his hands. Combeferre leant into him.

"Well done." He whispered. Enjolras smiled. 

***

"It was amazing." Courfeyrac clapped. He had been explaining the situation to the rest of the group as Enjolras buttered his bread. 

"It was not amazing, it was humiliating." Enjolras said.

"And uncalled for." Grantaire backed him up. Enjolras looked paler than ever, his skin almost paper white. 

"I am happy you finally told him where to go." Jehan smiled, Joly nodded along.

"It will not help me pass the class, though." Enjolras complained.

"Oh, come on." Marius moaned. "You could pass anything if you put your mind to it." 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. Those words had been spoken to him before, by his parents. People seemed to assume that Enjolras was smarter than he actually was. He was sweating, Grantaire noticed. And his eyes were unfocussed. 

"Go back to talking about Cosette, Marius. Stop worrying about what I do with my life." Enjolras snarled. 

"And you wonder why Madeleine dislikes you." 

Enjolras put his head into his hands, putting his bread down. It made a pleasant change, for Grantaire, that he was not the one arguing with Enjolras. But seeing Marius argue with him made him realise that, really, Enjolras clearly disliked confrontation.

"Everyone calm down." Combeferre tried to reason. Marius threw his plate down.

"No." He screamed. "Grantaire is correct, all you ever do is push everyone away."

"You said that?" Enjolras looked wounded, turning to Grantaire. 

"Do not bring me into this, Marius." He said. "I said that in a rage when we were arguing, Apollo." 

"I am sick of being ignored." Marius said. "You push my feelings away as if they are nothing." 

"There are more important matters than your love for Cosette." Grantaire stated, seeing Enjolras become frail and unable to speak. "Do not try and make this about you." 

"Enjolras can mope and moan about every issue under the sun, but god forbid I mention Cosette." 

Enjolras stood to his feet and walked out of the room, bored of the conversation. 

"Marius." Feuilly said. "Nobody cares for Cosette." 

"Yeah, you do talk about her all the time." Joly joined in. "I do not even think you realise it." 

"I do - do I?" He raised an eyebrow. Everyone nodded, making Marius blush. "Christ. I do not know why I just had a go at Enjolras." 

"He will get over it." Courfeyrac smiled. "Do not worry your bonny little head over it." 

"Yeah, if he can manage to put up with Grantaire then anything goes." Jehan teased.

Grantaire laughed.

"Speaking of, we have a study date." 

"Oh, a date?" Courfeyrac grinned. 

"Of course, Enjolras is forever going on dates." Grantaire rolled his eyes. "You knew what I meant."

"I know exactly what you mean." Courfeyrac sniggered, receiving a small punch from Combeferre.

***

Grantaire's pen slid down the page, his handwriting messy and unkempt. Enjolras watched him, in a daze. Grantaire's long curls fell in front of his eyes as he wrote. He needed a haircut. Though, Enjolras found himself thinking, Grantaire suited his messy appearance and he could barely imagine the man with a shovel load of organisation. 

"I have done some research, and I have made a start on the folder." Enjolras said, his voice coarse and quiet. Grantaire nodded. "Have you-"

"I found a nice example that we could use to disprove the idea of the death penalty. A guy in Florida was wrongfully convicted of rape and sentenced to death by electr-" 

Enjolras' head fell onto the table, his palms feeling clammy. He felt faint, his eyes flickering in and out of consciousness. Grantaire stopped speaking and titled his head, scanning Enjolras for a cause.

"If you would rather us do this another time, or you would rather do this alone then-"

"It is not - not - that." He swallowed hard, choking a little and putting his hand to his mouth. "I just-" He bent over, reaching for the bin and heaving, vomitting cruelly. Grantaire leapt up, rubbing his back as soothingly as possible. He traced the curls from his eyes, feeling that Enjolras had a terribly high fever. "I am sorry-" 

Grantaire laughed a little at the man leant over him, was he so selfless that even now he would apologise? Enjolras was quivering, shaking uncontrollably. He was having issues standing, so Grantaire put his arm around his waist. 

"Come on, we will get you to bed." 

"Thank-" 

"Do not speak." Grantaire said, picking Enjolras' work up and placing it into his bag. He practically dragged Enjolras to his dorm, knocking gently on the door and helping Combeferre and Courfeyrac get Enjolras into bed, them having had to sit up from their position within each other's arms. 

"For Christ's sake." Courfeyrac moaned, tucking Enjolras into bed. Combeferre grabbed Enjolras' insulin pens and injected his upper arm, making the blonde wince. 

"You have to start taking care of yourself, Enj." Combeferre repeated himself again. He said this everytime Enjolras got himself into this state. Grantaire was lost, he stood in the corner with furrowed eyebrows. 

"Thank you for bringing him back." Courfeyrac said, patting Grantaire on the back. He looked at Combeferre and frowned. "We have to go to class, 'Ferre." 

Combeferre shook his head, biting his lip. 

"Absolutely not, we cannot leave him like this." 

"I can - I mean, I could stay." Grantaire offered. Enjolras stirred in his bed. 

"Go - to class." He murmured. "R will stay." 

Grantaire squinted his eyes at him, taking a seat beside his bed and reassuring his two best friends that - really - they would be okay. They agreed and left, leaving Enjolras shivering in bed.

"You never said anything about having Diabetes." Grantaire said. 

"Come lie with me." Enjolras asked, sounding desperate. Grantaire hesitated to at first, assuming he thought he was someone else. He watched him tremble, his skin cold and clammy. He looked terribly unwell, and it pained Grantaire to see his Apollo in such a state. "Please, Grantaire." 

"Alright." Grantaire said, climbing onto the bed beside Enjolras. "But whilst I am here, we are to discuss the project we have been set." 

Enjolras scoffed, taking Grantaire's hand and twining his fingers into the other man's, taking in his scent as he turned to face him. 

"Be quiet, Grantaire." He said. Grantaire almost rolled out of bed, even now he was being rude. "Please." 

"Enjolras-"

"Please, R." Enjolras pleaded, allowing his face to fall into Grantaire's chest and closing his eyes. Grantaire was confused. But he was not going to complain. He put his hand to Enjolras' head, running his free hand through his hair.

And Enjolras fell into a slumber, feeling safer with Grantaire. 

Combeferre arrived back to the dormitory alone after English, cocking his head at the sight. Enjolras had fallen asleep in his bed, and Grantaire had sat up and started to write notes in his book, only using one hand because the other was locked within Enjolras' grasp. He noticed Combeferre and smiled. 

"He has been sleeping since you left." He stated, not taking his eyes from the book in front of him. 

"Good, he needs to rest this off." 

"Where is Courfeyrac?"

"Oh, he has double Religious Studies now." 

Grantaire frowned for him, poor Courfeyrac. Combeferre glanced at Enjolras, running over with a flannel. 

"How is his fever?" 

"Low." Grantaire shrugged. 

"Ah, you must have some effect on him then. Usually his fever remains for hours." Combeferre knocked Grantaire with a smile. "Are you staying with him all day?"

"I do not mind."

"Do you not have lessons?" 

"I do." 

"Then go to class, I will stay with him." 

"No." Grantaire cried, abruptly. "Sorry, I just - you need to go to class." 

"So do you?" 

"I will fail regardless." Grantaire shrugged, making Combeferre frown. He patted him on the back. 

"Do not let Enjolras here hear you speak those words." 

Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head in confusion. 

"He gets really irate about you speaking so low about yourself. Hates it, even." Combeferre smiled, leaving then. Grantaire figured he did that deliberately. He looked down at Enjolras to see that he had awoken. 

"How are you feeling?" Grantaire stroked the hair from his forehead, making Enjolras smile. 

"I am okay." He said. "What Combeferre just said-" 

"Forgotten." Grantaire smirked, with a little wink. 

"No, I mean, please do not feel like you have to stay with me. Your classes are far more important than I am." 

"Nothing is more important-" Grantaire started, wanting to finish. But he found himself stumbling, finishing: "-than your health." 

"Your education." 

"Hush, Apollo." Grantaire said, Enjolras sitting up to look at him. "Let us finish this." He showed Enjolras his book, and all the work he had done on their death penalty project for Lemarque. 

Enjolras scowled, lifting his hand to Grantaire's face and stroking his cheek with his thumb. 

"Dear Grantaire, why must we do this now?" 

Grantaire shivered, swallowing at the interaction. It was euphoric, but Enjolras was unwell. That was probably the cause. He pulled the blanket across Enjolras' lap, biting the inside of his mouth. 

"Apollo, you are sick." 

"I am fine." He argued, pressing his head to Grantaire's and whispering: "thank you for staying with me." 

Grantaire blinked, pulling away from the blonde he adored. He scoffed. 

"I do not need class anyway." He said, sighing. "Going to a lesson will not make me pass my exams." 

"You are more than capable of passing your exams, Grantaire." Enjolras had no mocking in his tone. He was sincere. "Everybody struggles with exams." 

"Why are you being nice to me?" Grantaire asked. "You are never nice to me." 

Enjolras sighed. 

"I never mean to be cruel to you." He admitted. 

"You do not have to explain. You are Enjolras, the son of a fortune far larger than I will ever get in two lifetimes. And you are smart and brilliant and well-liked."

"Grantaire, half of the school hates me because they believe me to be pompous." 

Grantaire sniggered, stopping once he realised that Enjolras was in no mood to joke.

"And I am not intelligent." He said. "Of course you know about my struggling in History. And I failed half of my subjects last year. Of course, Father did not approve and he soon-" He stopped himself. "What I mean is - my life is not as wonderful as you may well believe it to be." 

Grantaire frowned, pulling Enjolras close to him again. 

"Apollo." Grantaire said. "You should get some more rest. I will continue with this project as you sleep." 

Enjolras looked down at his twiddling fingers and nodded, complying. 

"And Apollo?" He asked, making Enjolras look up from his position within Grantaire's lap. "Your Father is a prick for hurting you." 

Enjolras shivered. Grantaire planted a small kiss upon his head and lay back himself, falling into a sleep. 

***

Feuilly and Joly pulled their cases behind them, dumping them at their feet once they reached the door to Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Jehan and Enjolras' dorm. Combeferre and Courfeyrac stood at the door, their backs against each side. 

"One whole week at home." Jehan clapped. "What will you two do without one another?" 

Combeferre laughed.

"We live next door to each other." Courfeyrac exclaimed. Enjolras sat with his legs crossed, not standing up. 

"Oh." Jehan laughed. "That, I did not know." 

Marius fell into the room, dropping his suitcase and allowing everything to fall out. Enjolras rolled his eyes at his friend's incompetence, remaining on his bed still. Grantaire ran in behind, empty handed. 

"Have you not packed yet?" Combeferre asked, his eyes narrowing. Grantaire ignored the question, jumping onto Enjolras' bed. 

"He is not going home." Joly told him. 

"Oh, neither is Enjolras." 

Grantaire looked at Enjolras, receiving a small smile from the blonde. Grantaire had no idea he was staying too. 

"Apparently, he is too 'ill' to travel." 

Enjolras smirked. He actually felt fine and could travel. But he hated home. And he did not want to go there. 

"Sounds like you two will be at each other's throats for an entire week." Marius said, shoving his stuff back into his case with a huff.

"Actually-" Grantaire was going to argue. But Enjolras placed a hand on his arm and shook his head, explaining without words that it was better off not to explain what was going on between them, whatever that was. 

"Bossuet has already left, he apologises for not being able to say goodbye." Bahorel said as he entered, trailing his bag on his shoulder. Feuilly laughed:

"His mother arrived early for him." 

"Poor Bossuet." 

"Not so much 'poor Bossuet', have you ever seen Musichetta?" Feuilly asked. 

"She has nothing on Coset-"

Grantaire's pillow hit Marius in the face before he could finish, laughing. He crossed his legs, turning to face the blonde man that was staring at him. He felt a flush on embarrassment befall itself upon his face when he noticed. He glared at Grantaire with dismay and scowled at Enjolras.

"You did not tell me you were staying." Enjolras said, the words flowing like rehearsed lines. 

"Nor did you." Grantaire smiled, blushing. 

"We will see you in a week, lads." Jehan smiled, making them break their staring. The two nodded. "Try not to kill one another." 

Marius, Joly and Jehan all made a joke about the two of them ending up in ditches by the end of the week and left. Feuilly winked at Grantaire, making Enjolras tilt his head and Combeferre smiled. 

"Enjoy." Courfeyrac winked at Enjolras. 

And then, Enjolras and Grantaire were left alone. 

"The good thing is, we can finish our project." He said. 

"I am able to have a conversation with you, Grantaire, that does not revolve around Lamarque's stupid project." 

Grantaire's mouth fell agape, his eyes glistening with cunning.

"Did you just call schoolwork 'stupid'?" 

Enjolras nudged Grantaire, his hair falling perfectly in front of his blue eyes. 

Grantaire sat with his back against the headboard of Enjolras' bed. 

"Lamarque told me you are applying for Aberystwyth University." Enjolras broke the silence. Grantaire looked at him. 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

"Excuse me?" 

"I mean - why are you applying there?" 

"Because I, believe it or not, think I might be in with a small shot of at least getting a BBB grade." Grantaire snapped.

"That is not what I meant." Enjolras stated, plainly. 

"This project is doing my head in." Grantaire threw his paper down, allowing it to land in a pile beside Enjolras' feet. Enjolras looked at him, blankly. "You are doing my head in." 

"I am just-"

"You are judging me!" He screamed. "Enjolras, you are standing there and telling me that I am no good for Aberystwyth University." 

"No, you are misunde-"

"Why can you not see me happy? You constantly have to put me down." 

"You put yourself down." Enjolras stamped his foot to the ground, his eyes watering, feeling the emotion get too much and breaking. "You do it all the time." 

"That does not give you the right to put me down. I know I am useless, and I know I do not seem to care for education and I know I am a waste of space. I do not need Apollo telling me that." 

Enjolras let a tear fall from his eye. He wiped his, sniffing. Grantaire failed to look at him, failed to notice. 

"You are so blinded by your hatred of me that you fail to see that I actually do care for you." Enjolras' voice was coarse, it shaking. He felt like his entire life was being ripped apart, his heart open to be picked at. 

Grantaire allowed his arms to fall, his eyes squinting at Enjolras. 

"You are too good for Aberystwyth." He bit his lip, his voice going quiet. "That is what I meant - I just - I cannot imagine going somewhere where you are not." 

Grantaire sighed, faltering. He tried desperately to read Enjolras' expression, looking at him at last and noticing the tears streaming down his cheeks. He shuffled forward, impulsively wrapping his arms around Enjolras. Enjolras collapsed into the hug, his head tucking into the crook of Grantaire's shoulder. He sobbed a little. 

"I do not want you to hate me." 

"I could never hate you, Apollo." 

Enjolras swallowed, wiping the tears from his face. He bit his lip and took a shuffled backwards on the bed, away from him. 

"Apollo?" Grantaire reached a hand out for his friend, to which Enjolras flinched away. "Are you alright?" 

Grantaire's throat ached, he watched Enjolras breakdown, collapsing into a mess on the bed, wrapping his arms around his legs. He had no idea what had brought this on but he felt inclined to at least try and fix it.

"Apollo?" He repeated, moving closer to the blonde boy that was sobbing. He lifted his face so that he was looking into his blue eyes and asked, "what is wrong?" 

"You did not go home." Enjolras wiped his eyes. 

"No." 

"Why not?" He sniffed.

"I do not get on with my parents. They do not approve of my life choices." Grantaire said. "And, honestly, Joly mentioned that you were staying here too and I felt you could need company." He smiled. "After all, 'any company is better than no company at all'." He nudged him, playfully. 

"Your company is better than any company." Enjolras muttered, his voice low. Grantaire fluttered his eyes, laughing with a smirk. 

"And my Father is a drunk." Grantaire admitted. "He is wrathful and-"

"He hits you." Enjolras' eyes opened wide, his eyebrows creasing. 

"As does yours, I assume." 

Enjolras shook his head. He felt dreadful. His Father had never laid a finger on him. 

"He is emotionally abusive, I think is the term." 

"That is not okay." 

"But it is not as bad as-"

"It is just as bad, Enj." Grantaire said, dropping the nickname. "You do not deserve that." 

"You do not deserve to be hurt, either." 

"I do, sometimes." Grantaire shrugged. 

"Never." Enjolras said, his eyes sincere. 

Enjolras crept over to Grantaire, clutching his hand tight. He placed his head on his chest, taking in his scent and relishing. He smelt like paint. Grantaire had a distinctive smell; oil and lead and cotton. It was sweet, and it made Enjolras euphoric. It made him shiver and sweat and it made him bashful. 

He was always on his mind. 

Grantaire cooed, hushing Enjolras to sleep. Enjolras sat back up, turning to face him again, his hand still clasped within Grantaire's. He smiled, making Grantaire smile too. And they stayed staring for a while. 

"You have a nice smile, you know?" Enjolras broke the silence. Grantaire laughed. "You do." 

"Apollo-" 

"Do not call me that." Enjolras said. Grantaire smirked.

"You are a god, Apollo." He winked, making Enjolras raise an eyebrow and throw his arms around him, his legs wrapping around his waist as he rolled around. He stopped, catching his breath and staring into Grantaire's eyes. Grantaire's breathing was warm on his face, his nose touching his own. He pushed forward, pressing his lips to Grantaire's, his entire weight bearing on top of the smaller man. Grantaire felt like melting, his mouth opening to allow Enjolras' tongue to enter. They worked in synchronisation, their eyes closing. 

Enjolras pulled away, panting with a smile plastered on his face. 

Grantaire took in the expression on his face, the curls that had fallen in front of his eyes and the perfect grin on his face. He used his arms to pull him closer, their lips landing upon one another's again, Grantaire using his strength to overpower a weakened Enjolras and straddle him as the blonde lay on the bed. 

"I love you." Enjolras exclaimed, rather exasperated. Grantaire smirked, tilting his head to plant a soft kiss on his neck, kissing all the way up to his forehead. 

"Love?" Grantaire stopped, his legs still wrapped around Enjolras' waist. He glared at Grantaire through the darkness, his eyebrows furrowing. "I do not think that you meant that." Grantaire smirked.

"Did I say something wrong?" Enjolras asked, his hands running down Grantaire's spine, making the brunette shiver. 

Grantaire laughed, his head landing on Enjolras' chest.

"You do not love me." 

"I believe I do, Grantaire."

"Nobody has ever loved me before."

Enjolras rolled over, making Grantaire fall to his side. He faced him, his forehead touching Grantaire's.

"I love you, is that enough?"

"Your love is everything." Grantaire smirked. "Oh, and Enjolras." 

The other man hummed. 

"I love you too." He rested his head in the crook of his chin, feeling content. "I could never hate you." 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to see Les Misérables at the weekend in London and it was magnificent. I was blessed. 
> 
> The Enjolras/Grantaire hug had me melting. 
> 
> And I was inspired. So here is Chapter Four. I'm not quite sure what I'm doing at the moment with this story but I know where I want it to end. 
> 
> Oh and thank you for the kudos and comments. I am so grateful that you are enjoying the story. I'm rambling, sorry. 
> 
> The next chapter will be uploaded in a few days, once I'm settled on the plot. Lol.


	5. Chapter Five

***

Marius threw his book down on the desk beside Enjolras, sighing as he sat down on his seat. He had forgotten to do his French homework over the holiday and was preparing himself for a lecture from his Grandfather. He had also not spoken to Enjolras since their row at the dinner table. And the awkwardness between them was almost unbearable. For both of them.

"Please open your textbooks to page 324." Professor Montpercy said, walking towards the door. Valjean stood there, his dark eyes scanning the room. 

"I do apologise for the interruption, Montpercy. But I must ask to borrow Emeric Enjolras, if that is okay." 

"Of course it is, Sir." He bowed, leading Enjolras out of the door. 

Enjolras looked concerned, his mouth curving. Valjean had insisted that everything was alright. 

"Your parents have come to see you." 

So, things were certainly not alright. Enjolras swallowed, preparing himself for a lecture. He opened the door to the office, his legs quivering beneath him. There stood his Mother, her kind eyes shining in the sunlight draping in from the window. 

"I shall leave you to it." Valjean left the room, shutting the door behind him. Then, Enjolras' Father turned around, his sharp features daggering into Enjolras. 

"How are you feeling, my love?" His Mother asked, encasing him in a hug. He looked at his Father, his mouth faltering. 

"I am well, Mama." He said. "I missed you." 

"And we missed you, my dear boy." She cooed, stroking his back. "Did we not, Abel?" 

His Father nodded, a smirk forming on his face. 

"Indeed we did." 

"I apologise for not coming home, I have been unwell." 

"We know, darling. We understand." 

"We got your report through the other day." His voice was dark, making Enjolras stiffen and back away to the opposite side of the oak table. "You are doing well in Ethics, I see." 

"Yes, Lemarque is a good professor-"

"Oh, and I suppose that this Madeleine is a bad one. Your History grade is miserable." His eyes were callous.

"I am trying." He defended. 

"Not enough." 

"Oh, darling, look at your badge." She turned the conversation to the blue badge on his blaiser. "You did not mention that you got 'Prefect'?" 

"Combeferre is Head Boy." He said, not taking his eyes from his paternal Father; his nose pointed, and his hair dark. "I must get back to class-"

"You stay-" His Father slapped his hand to the desk, making Enjolras flinch. "Until your Mother and are finished speaking with you, Emeric."

"I am finished here." Enjolras stated, broadening his chest. He put his hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath, opening it. 

"We are so proud of you, Emeric." His Mother smiled, only to receive a glare from his Father.

"You must get into Cambridge." 

Enjolras took one last look at them, his neck feeling congested against the top button of his shirt. 

"See you later."

***

"These Prefect duties will be the death of me." Joly complained, walking to the left of Enjolras. They had been paired together to ensure the First Year students were alright attending their first out-of-hour revision session. With exams coming up, revision sessions had been set up by the Professors to assist the students with their learning. "I swear, my throat has ached for days since that football match." 

"Perhaps you have a throat infection." Enjolras stated, bluntly. Joly clutched his throat, stopping in the corridor. 

"Do you think I could do?" 

"No." Enjolras rolled his eyes. "I was jesting." 

"Oh." He blushed. "Hey, Marius is still sulking about your argument a few weeks ago. He even had a go at Grantaire for not backing him up today." 

"Has he fallen out with Cosette or something?" 

"That is what I thought." He shrugged. "Maybe you should apologise." 

Enjolras went to argue that he did not have to apologise because he did nothing wrong, until Combeferre and Montparnasse turned up.

"Please help me." A boy grabbed Enjolras' sleeve, making him flip around. He looked at the other three, his eyes puzzled. And followed the boy to a small squabble that was happening. 

"Break it up." Enjolras' voice boomed, making the two boys stop fighting with their fists. 

"Enjolras!" Gavroche screamed, racing behind the blonde boy. Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows, bending down to speak to the smaller boy with straight hair. 

"Would you care to explain what has happened?" He quizzed, making his voice stern. 

"He picked on me because of my parents." Gavroche cried. 

"Did not!" The other boy screeched. 

"Liar!" 

"Joly, you take Gavroche over there and I will speak with - what is your name?"

"Perry."

"Right, I will deal with Perry." Enjolras said, leading Perry to a corner of the room. He knelt down to his height, making the boy relax a little. He was short, his face chubby and round. "What happened?" 

"Gavroche called me 'stuck up'." He shrugged. "So I may have called him a name back." 

"Right." Enjolras rolled his eyes, standing up. "I want you to go to Gavroche and apologise." 

"No chance." The boy stuck his tongue out at Enjolras, pushing him away with all his strength. Enjolras scoffed. 

"Hey." Combeferre grabbed hold of Perry's blaiser, dragging him back to Enjolras and releasing him to fall to the floor. "You respect Enjolras. He is your Prefect."

"I respect those that respect our school." 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. And Combeferre sighed. 

"Detention." He pointed to the door. "Now. With Professor Montpercy." 

Perry sniggered, walking out of the room being led by Combeferre.

"This is ridiculous. They do not listen to us." Joly said. "Is this not what the professors get paid for?" 

"Yes." Enjolras said, bluntly. "But they have all the power and we must bow to their every command." 

"You do not have to." Montparnasse said, standing beside Joly. "You could plan to overthrow the school's monarchy." 

"Shut up, Montparnasse." Enjolras spat. 

"Hey, I am just making a suggestion." 

"You are mocking." Joly shook his head. Montparnasse winked, walking away from the pair of them to go and assist a little boy.

"I do not understand that man." 

"I do not think anyone does." Joly said. "How are you feeling about exams?" 

"Not good, in all honesty. Yourself?" 

"Same." He said. "I am confident in a few, but instead of revising ourselves, we are forced to be here." 

Enjolras' mind raced. That was true. He looked around at the small first years and frowned. They were not needed here anyway. Thatcher and Madeleine were perfectly capable of taking care of a small group of children. He turned to Joly, speaking in a monotone:

"I will see you back at the dorm." 

"Where are you-"

"I am going to revise." He threw his badge on the floor, smirking at Professor Thatcher as he left. She frowned, her face scrunching. 

"Emeric!" She called, her voice cold and cruel. Enjolras stopped, straightening his tie as he turned to face her. She was taller than he was, somehow. And skinnier. Enjolras had always associated her with a witch. She was horrid. "You dropped your badge." 

"I did." 

"You are nothing but trouble, boy." 

"I have revision to be doing." His mouth curled. "Just like those first year students in there, except, my life actually might be affected if I do not do mine." 

Then he walked away, leaving her to pick her jaw off the floor. She hated the boy, despised him. But he was correct. His duty to the school was not as important as his own school work. 

***

Grantaire lay on Enjolras' bed, a pencil delicately running over a piece of paper. Enjolras carefully sat down, making note not to knock the smaller man. Marius huffed, turning so that he did not have to face Enjolras and moving onto the floor. 

"For somebody that wants nothing to do with Enjolras, you were perfectly fine to sit on his bed." Grantaire smiled, making Marius flush. The blonde man sniggered a little, lying flat on his stomach beside Grantaire, their legs kicking behind them in synchronisation. 

"I apologise if I hurt you, Marius." Enjolras caved in, handing Marius a small smile. Marius huffed, refusing to look at him. Grantaire leant closer to Enjolras, his ear rubbing against the taller man's shoulder. 

"I spoke with Lamarque and he told me that the project is not to be touched until after exams." He said. Enjolras looked at him. "So, I suppose that means that I do not have to put up with you anymore." 

Enjolras smirked.

"Until after exams are over."

"Yes, so no distractions for me." 

"Then I suppose you will be fine to sleep in your own bed from now on." 

Courfeyrac shook his head, laughing at their conversation. He looked around the room, to see that nobody else had picked up on the fact that they were lying ridiculously close to one another. 

"Whatever you wish, Apollo." 

"Child." Enjolras pushed him. Grantaire sniggered, his crooked teeth visible. 

"You are being obvious." He whispered, making Enjolras frown on cue. 

"Are you incapable of being serious?" He sat up, his voice becoming harsh. 

"Oh, nobody could ever be serious around you, great Apollo." Grantaire smirked. Enjolras growled:

"I despise you." 

"The feeling is mutual, Emeric." Grantaire picked his stuff up and joined Marius on the floor, his heart aching. It felt wrong to argue with Enjolras, even just for show. 

Combeferre walked into the room, dawdling over to Enjolras and throwing his badge down on his lap. Grantaire stared, blankly. 

"Valjean told me to give you that back." 

Enjolras frowned.

"When will that man-"

"When will you learn?" Combeferre asked. "Valjean wants you to have the badge so that you can boast about it in your university application, he does not expect anything from you." 

"How is that-"

"It is not fair, of course it is not. But Enjolras, shut up, please, alright?" Combeferre asked, climbing into bed with Courfeyrac. "I do not mean to sound rude. But those first years are a nightmare and I am tired. And I cannot listen to a lecture from you about Valjean using his power to-"

"Hey, 'Ferre." Enjolras threw a pillow at his head. "I get it."

Grantaire stood up and rolled into the duvet of Enjolras' bed, tapping the area beside him so that Enjolras would join him. The taller man removed their work from the bed and climbed in. Courfeyrac nudged Combeferre. 

"They are definitely together." He said, a grin plastered on his smile.

"You are obsessed." 

"I am telling you, our best friend has fallen for Grantaire." 

Combeferre nodded, closing his eyes. 

"Of course he has, Courf." 

Enjolras planted a quick kiss on Grantaire's lips, before turning to face the wall, their hands intertwining under the blanket and out of sight. 

***

Bossuet ripped the page from the book, physically paining Enjolras. He sat there staring at him, contemplating giving up on the entire subject of History.

"Today I would like you all to discuss the terms of the Treaty of Versailles and whether or not you believe them to be fair." Madeleine stood at the front of the class, his arms crossed. "If you agree that the treaty was for the best, go to the right of the class. If not, to the left. You will then have a class debate." 

"With all due respect, Professor." Enjolras spoke up. "How is this going to help us pass our exams?"

Madeleine bit his tongue, looking at the blonde man with such hatred that Enjolras would have been dead if looks could kill. 

"You do not have to stay." Madeleine said. 

Enjolras looked at Combeferre and nudged him. 

"You are terrible." He shook his head, walking to the right of the classroom. 

"I have been told." Enjolras smirked, walking to the left of the room, alone. Grantaire laughed, of course he would be the one to want to argue. 

"Okay, I want you to explain why you have chosen to stand where you are now." Madeleine sighed, glaring at Enjolras with burning rage. 

"The treaty was meant to bring about peace in Europe. It targeted the main player in the war and aimed to restrict them from causing more damage to the continent." Combeferre spoke first. 

"And, when compared to the provisions that Germany would have imposed had they won the war, the provisions set about by the Allies were manageable and not too harsh." Grantaire offered. Madeleine nodded:

"Very good." He looked to Enjolras. "Any input?" 

"Just because the provisions that Germany would have imposed may have been cruel, does not mean that the Allies had the right to impose such things." Enjolras shrugged. 

"That is hardly an argument." Madeleine glowered. 

"The 'Treaty of Versailles' had the premises to do good, granted." Enjolras started, his voice sturdy. "However, the treaty was signed for the wrong reasons." 

Grantaire beamed, his grin encouraging Enjolras to continue. 

"The pressure placed upon the Germans was immensely unfair. And because they had no choice but to sign, the treaty proved to be a failure. It left a bitter taste and only encouraged an uprising." 

"The Allies were not to know that, though." Madeleine discouraged. 

"They never allowed it to cross their minds." Enjolras said. "They wanted to be seen making positive progress." He continued. "And, although Germany were not the only country to invade others, the treaty treated them a lot harsher. The payments that were imposed may have sounded good. But they were not thought through." 

"Your arguments are weak." 

"Sorry, Professor. Is this a class debate, or are you just going to pick at Enjolras' ideas?" Grantaire moved to the other side of the classroom, crossing his arms as he stood beside Enjolras. "Enjolras is making good points. The treaty did ultimately lead to the hyperinflation within the country, which made people angry. And that gave Adolf Hitler a platform to set up his dictatorship." 

Enjolras let his hand brush against Grantaire's, his index finger linking onto Grantaire's pinky. 

"I want you to leave." Madeleine said, pointing at the door. "Both of you." 

"Yikes." Grantaire gritted his teeth. "It seems you are just a very small man."

"A small man using his position as a teacher to bully those that you view to be lesser than you." Enjolras growled. 

Grantaire and Enjolras left, lifting their satchels and stealing every copy of textbooks about the world wars that they could. 

"Put those back." 

"Would you rather us fail our exams?" Enjolras squared up to the professor, squinting. "That is fine by us, Madeleine." 

Grantaire pulled Enjolras by his sleeve, guiding him to his dorm. He rolled Enjolras' sleeve up, sticking his needle into him.

"Ouch." Enjolras complained, hitting Grantaire in return. "Why did you-" 

"Before we even think about History, I just need to-" Grantaire pushed Enjolras onto the bed, his lips bruising at the mere kiss that Enjolras was giving him. Grantaire's fingers unbuttoned Enjolras' blaiser, taking it off. He continued to unbutton his blouse, stroking his hand down Enjolras' bare chest and planting kisses on his warm skin. Enjolras had a nice chest. It was smooth and tanned, somehow. And Grantaire loved it. He tore Enjolras' shirt clean off, leaving the man shirtless. 

"How is this fair-"

"Shh-" Grantaire moaned, putting his finger to Enjolras' mouth and straddling his legs over Enjolras' crotch. Enjolras' belt buckle was aggravating Grantaire; in the way. He sank lower, undoing the buckle with his hands, softly.

"What are you-" 

Grantaire unzipped his trousers, pulling them down. Enjolras' heart was beating, feeling himself stiffening. He moaned as Grantaire's hand reached into his boxers, his fingers warm and soft. Enjolras lay there, allowing the warmth to flow through his body, his eyes watering at the pleasure. 

"Grantaire-" He choked, biting his lip. 

Grantaire smoothed his hand, rubbing gently. He smirked, making Enjolras moan at the ectasy flowing through his veins, his crotch beating. He shivered, feeling complete.

"I love you." He exclaimed. Grantaire pulled his hand away, wriggling back to Enjolras' lips, his eyes closing as he leant in. Enjolras flipped him over, his lips buzzing. Grantaire grinned, feeling Enjolras' crotch rubbing against his own.

"You two are unbelievable." Marius' voice came, making Enjolras roll onto the floor. He pulled his trousers up, his face flushing. Grantaire sat up, covering his crotch with a pillow. "Why could you not have just got on with the lesson, like normal people?" 

"Madeleine was bullying Enjolras, surely you could see that." Grantaire said, trying to keep Marius' attention on him and not Enjolras' half naked form. Enjolras scattered around, buttoning his shirt. Courfeyrac entered straight after.

"Enjolras is not being bullied by Madeleine." 

"No, that would indicate that I am a victim." He said, his voice cracking. He was flustered. Courfeyrac scanned him, noticing a blush on his and Grantaire's cheeks.

"Why must you always be picking fights?" 

"Marius." Enjolras cleared his throat, stroking the hair from his face in a swift motion. He was sweating, Courfeyrac noticed. "I was debating as he asked me to do. He kicked us out of the class because we were right." 

"He kicked you out of the class because he hates you." Courfeyrac smiled. "And Grantaire was just in the way." 

"We do not need him anyway, do we Apollo?" Grantaire raised his head, his chest broadening. "I have the angel of Enjolras to teach me all I need to know, that is far better than a shrivel." He winked, making Enjolras flush. 

"You are a child." 

"Touché." 

"Enjolras cannot even pass History himself, how can he teach you?" 

"It was a joke." 

Marius scoffed. 

"It was not a good one, then." 

He stormed out. 

"What is up-"

"You two!" Courfeyrac slammed the door, clapping. Enjolras and Grantaire glanced at each other, their faces paling. Enjolras sat down. "You have done it, have you not?"

"Done what?" Enjolras was puzzled, his mouth figgeting. 

"Enjolras, you are my best friend." Courfeyrac said. "I know you, and I know when you are happy. You finally did it - after all these years of pining - Christ! You did it!" 

"Did what?" Enjolras' face was crimson now, with fury or embarrassment, Courfeyrac had no idea. 

"Admitted that you love Grantaire." 

"Hang on. I have not liked Grantaire for years-"

"Rubbish." Courfeyrac said, making Grantaire snigger. "When did it happen? Oh my - have you - Christ!" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Did Marius walk in on you-"

"No." Enjolras stated. "I was giving myself an insulin shot." 

Grantaire kicked his shoes off, flipping through his notes and refusing to look at Courfeyrac. He had turned a crimson tone, his heart pulsing.

"Well, congratulations on finally realising." He said. "I am happy for you both." He smiled. "I have been rooting for you two since the first time you argued, so much chemi-"

"Be quiet, Courf." Enjolras rolled his eyes, throwing his arms around his best friend as he leapt onto the bed. Courfeyrac winked, rubbing Enjolras' head with his fist. "We are not ready to tell anyone yet." 

"My lips are sealed, Enj." He promised. "Except for 'Ferre." 

Enjolras smirked. 

"Of course not." 

***

Combeferre and Courfeyrac held Enjolras down, pinning his legs, giving the man with blonde curls cramp. 

"Let me go, you idiots, let me go." 

"Not until-" Combeferre struggled. "You tell us everything." 

Enjolras laughed, his eyes watering. Courfeyrac had told Combeferre once Grantaire had left to revise with Joly and Jehan, leaving just the three of them. 

Enjolras had been writing notes, his hand aching from writing so much. 

Until Combeferre pounced on him. 

"Have you injected-"

"Grantaire did it for me this morning." Enjolras said, making Courfeyrac clap again. "What?" 

"Oh my God, our little asexual friend is in love." Combeferre said, making Courfeyrac snigger. Combeferre was so well spoken, usually. But something about this topic turned him into a fifteen year old girl. And Courfeyrac loved that. 

"Asexual?" 

"Obviously, we got it wrong." Courfeyrac grinned. "How did it happen?" 

"It just did." Enjolras stated, uncomfortably. He hated talking about himself at the best of times. Talking about his relationship would be even worse. 

"But - is Grantaire going to Oxford, or Cambridge?" 

Enjolras sat up, his face dropping from the smile he had. He rolled his eyes at the mere mention of the university he was to refuse to go to. 

"Aberystwyth." He shrugged, making Combeferre and Courfeyrac sit up either side of their best friend. 

"But - that is hours away." 

Enjolras looked broken at the thought. 

"You have to convince him to come to Oxford." Courfeyrac said. "We cannot have you all lonely after finding your heart."

"How? He missed the deadline." 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac smirked. 

"What did you do?" 

***

Grantaire pulled the duvet over his head as Marius and Bossuet spoke of their lovers. He sighed, sinking into his pillows. 

"Cosette's father is a teacher, apparently. She did not tell me where, though." Marius spoke in a light tone, one that made Grantaire want to hit him in the face. "I did not ask, though, to be fair to her." 

"I have met a wonderful girl named Estelle." Bossuet smiled, his cheeks aching. "She is blonde, like your Cosette." 

"If you are to speak of nothing but women, could you please do it elsewhere?" Grantaire caved in, sitting up in a huff. 

"This is our room too." Marius said. Grantaire growled at him, staring in disarray. Their exams started next week. How could they not be bothered? He tilted his head, picking his books up and trailing his duvet behind him. 

"No, Grantaire, you do not have to leave." Bossuet cried, racing out to stop him.

"Clearly I do. I am trying to study." He said, glaring at Marius, who stayed sat on the floor with his legs crossed. Marius had been huffing since his argument with Enjolras and had remained in a constant bad temper. 

"You never try. That is your problem. You hang around Enjolras like a lost puppy. He does not like you. You will never be friends. Because you believe in nothing, Grantaire. Nothing." Marius spat, his eyes glaring into Grantaire like lava. Grantaire felt his heart sink. Enjolras had said worse things to him in the past, but he had grown accustomed to their fights. And, thankfully, they no longer argued. Hearing such cruel words come from someone that was supposed to be nice to him stung. 

Hearing them from the man that was supposed to be his best friend really stung.

"Marius!" Bossuet threw him an exasperated glance. Grantaire shook his head, finding himself unable to speak; his voice getting caught in his throat. He walked out, his chest aching. 

"What?" Marius stammered. "He does not care." 

Bossuet shook his head. He knew Grantaire to care too much. 

Enjolras lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling catching his stress ball as Combeferre quizzed him and Courfeyrac on History questions. It was no lie that Combeferre could do History with his eyes closed, so him teaching them was for the best.

"And in what year did Adolf Hitler invade Poland?" 

"1939." Courfeyrac shot in, making Enjolras laugh. It was not a test, nor a competition but Courfeyrac was trying a lot harder than he was. 

"Right." Combeferre said. "And what was Britain's response to that?" 

"A declaration of war." Enjolras said, calmly. Courfeyrac smirked. 

"Why?" 

"I never get this part right." Courfeyrac sighed. "A treaty?" 

"But it was not a full treaty, more of an agreement." Enjolras pointed out. 

"Oh, yeah! That 'scrap of paper' thing." 

"I do not think that you can write that in your exam." Combeferre teased, nudging Courfeyrac. 

"Obviously not." Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. 

Grantaire dawdled into the room, refusing to look at any of them. He said nothing and climbed over Enjolras, lying down and turning his head to face the wall. Combeferre sat up, looking at Enjolras with a confused expression. Enjolras darted his eyes between Combeferre and Courfeyrac, shrugging. 

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow, mouthing 'check he is okay'. 

Enjolras put his hand on Grantaire's leg, spinning to face his back. Grantaire did not turn over, instead he stiffened and mumbled:

"-do not want to talk about it." 

Courfeyrac bit his lip, knowing Enjolras would not stand for that. The blonde moved over a little, his torso rubbing against Grantaire's spine. 

"Hey." He cooed, ignoring his friend's presences. "What has happened?" 

"I said, I do not wish to speak of it." He grumbled, pushing Enjolras away with all his strength; both physical and mental. Enjolras looked at Combeferre, hurt. He looked ready to lick his wounds, shrugging. Courfeyrac scratched his head, unsure of what they could do. 

"Has somebody hurt you?" Enjolras asked, continuing to dig. Grantaire huffed, not responding. "Have I done something to upset you?" 

"No, but if you keep fucking trying to speak to me, then I will be upset at you." Grantaire screamed, surprising Enjolras so much that he jumped a little, his heart beating harshly against his chest. 

"Enjolras - do not get mad." Courfeyrac whispered under his breath, it close to Combeferre's ear. "Do not escalate the situation, use your brain. Please."

"He cannot hear you." Combeferre laughed, whispering himself. "He will be fine." 

"I am not so sure. He is bad at sentiment." 

Enjolras scrunched his nose at him. 

"He is going to get mad-" 

"Grantaire." Enjolras ran his index finger down Grantaire's spine, making the smaller man shiver. He hated him at this moment. He wanted to lie there and hate the world. But how could he hate the world if Enjolras was on it? He could not. 

"Apollo. I do not want to talk about it." Grantaire sighed, turning to face Enjolras. 

"You do not have to." Enjolras took the opportunity to plant a kiss on Grantaire's lips, breathing softly against Grantaire. Courfeyrac and Combeferre glanced at each other, each with a grin on their face. They were equally proud of their friend. Grantaire pulled away, his arms wrapping around Enjolras' waist. 

"Thank you." Grantaire smiled. 

Courfeyrac could feel his heart melting at the sight in front of him. Enjolras and Grantaire were the sweetest; he had wanted them together since they first met Grantaire. He knew, of course, about Grantaire's affection for his best friend. 

And as soon as Enjolras stopped complaining about Grantaire, he knew his friend had finally succumbed to the idea that he might be a little bit in love. 

He glared at them hugging, heart content at their happiness.

"Stop watching them, Courf." Combeferre laughed, pulling him into a hug. Courfeyrac swore he had never been happier. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so obviously Marius and Grantaire were best friends and that's why it hurt Grantaire so much. 
> 
> Poor baby. 
> 
> But I'm sure I can make our little R feel better in the next chapter, right? Maybe. I'm not sute yet. 
> 
> But thanks for sticking with my story!


	6. Chapter Six

***

"Do you want to talk about what upset you?"

Enjolras kissed Grantaire's forehead, feeling him breathing lowly into his chest. Grantaire struggled beneath him, pushing away from Enjolras with his arms. 

"You told me I did not have to. Do not expect you can make me." He ranted, waking Courfeyrac. He sat up, shaking his head. Were they seriously going to argue in the middle of the night? It was dark out, only the moonlight was luminating the room. He looked at the clock: half past two in the morning. "You really are unbelievable, I do not have to confide in you just because you expect me to tell you everything-"

"I am not expecting you to tell me. I am asking if you would like to." 

Grantaire blinked in shock.

"Excuse me?" 

"I am asking if you would like to tell me what is bothering you. I want to help you. But if you would prefer not to, then I respect you. You do not have to tell me." Enjolras said, simply. 

Grantaire squinted his eyes at him, scanning his face. And Courfeyrac sniggered a little to himself; Enjolras was a sly man. He could serenade anyone into talking if he wanted to. He was a people's man and he knew exactly what to say to please them. Though, even Enjolras was struggling with Grantaire, Grantaire was different:

"I just - do not think that I am forcing you to like me, or to talk." 

"Forcing me to like you?" 

"This is what this is about, is it not? You do not actually like me - you just do not want to disappoint me." 

Grantaire scoffed. 

"For someone intelligent, you really are dim." Grantaire smiled. "I love you, Enjolras. You are my Apollo. And if anything, I feel as though you are wasted on me. You are bright and beautiful and smart and lovely and selfless and ambitious and driven and sweet and lovely and godlike. And I am none of those things." He said, dodging Enjolras' gaze. "I am nothing." 

"Is this - do you truly believe that?" Enjolras asked, feeling his heart ache. Courfeyrac felt uncomfortable eavesdropping now. But he could not draw himself from the conversation. 

"I am nothing." He repeated. 

"You are everything, Grantaire." 

"You do not have to lie to me, Apollo." 

"I could never." Enjolras stated. Grantaire hut himself internally. Enjolras was no liar, he knew that. But it was impossible to believe he truly thought that. Grantaire was small and useless. He was a cynic and he believed in nothing; not even himself. 

He sighed.

"Grantaire." Enjolras took a deep breath. "I am too ambitious and I am too driven and I am too confident." He explained, making Grantaire scoff. "And you keep me grounded. You, Grantaire. You, the cynic that believes in nothing." 

"I believe in you." Grantaire muttered. 

"You chose to love me; a man that can love nothing but liberty. You, Grantaire, you I love." He said. "And I do not think you worthless. You are everything that is good in the world." 

Courfeyrac was near tears. 

"I love you, Grantaire." He pressed his lips to Grantaire's again, taking in his scent. "I love you so much." 

"Marius said that I was-"

"Marius?" Enjolras pulled away, his fingers clenching. "What did he say?"

"It does not matter." Grantaire leant into Enjolras' chest, shutting his eyes. 

"It does matter, he hurt you." 

"Enjolras, please, it does not matter." 

"You matter. So it does matter." Enjolras said. "Marius is an idiot anyway, I do not see why he has such an issue-"

Grantaire rolled his eyes, forcing his mouth upon Enjolras' in a desperate attempt to make him be quiet. 

"Rest. We have exams tomorrow." 

Enjolras frowned. He did not want to think about exams. He wanted to talk about what Marius had said.

***

Grantaire looked at the timetable in his hand and felt his throat become hoarse, his chest tightening. He stared at the date of his first exam. Today. He frowned, breathing heavily. 

"Trust it to be History first." Courfeyrac complained. "I mean - we have known for weeks, but I cannot believe that it really is the History exam first." 

Enjolras scoffed, buttering the bread that he was far too nervous to eat. He chanced a glance at Grantaire, meeting his eyes and looking straight back down. Grantaire had paled, his stomach churning. He stood, running out of the dining hall. 

"I did not think Grantaire even cared-"

"Of course Grantaire cares, Marius. You are supposed to be his best friend. Start acting like it." Enjolras spat, standing himself. "Excuse me." He raced off after him, chasing Grantaire down the corridors made of stone. Grantaire stopped, outside in the courtyard, sinking down against a pillar. 

"I cannot do it, Apollo." 

Enjolras sat down beside him, resting his head on the shorter man's shoulder. He smiled, whispering:

"Of course you can, R." 

Grantaire shook his head. 

"I cannot. I do not know what to-"

"Grantaire, you will be fine."

"Even Marius thinks I am a fail-"

"As I said earlier, Marius is an idiot. Does his opinion of you truly matter?" 

Grantaire did not reply, he simply looked to the ground and frowned.

"Right." Enjolras faltered. "Well, I believe you are capable of this. You can pass and you will." He smiled. Grantaire looked up at him at last. "Does that matter at all?"

"It matters most." Grantaire looked close to tears. Enjolras pulled him into a hug. 

"Come on." 

"I just do not want to let anyone down." 

"You will surprise yourself, believe me."

He pressed his hand into Grantaire's. And walked to the exam room. Grantaire wanted to run away but having Enjolras beside him grounded him. He felt a little more relaxed, like he could take on the world with this man at his side.

***

"I am so ready to go home." Courfeyrac stated, sipping from his mug of tea. Grantaire groaned, his eyes still heavy. Exams were over now and, well deserved, they were all excused to go home for a weekend before returning for their last month at school. 

"I am too." Feuilly said, poking his head up from the floor. "Time to relax and stuff." 

"But your parents are-"

"Lovely people?" Feuilly offered, cutting Bahorel off before he could finish. "You all need to stop assuming that they hurt me." 

"But you said-"

"I did not. You all assumed that my broken arm and black eye came from them." 

Feuilly had turned up to school in their fifth year with his arm in a sling and gave no explanation of it. And, being nosey, Marius discovered that Feuilly's adoptive parents at the time had been propositioned and Feuilly had been put back into care. So they all assumed that his broken arm came down to his parents. Wrong, of course, Feuilly had fallen over at a party.

"Are you staying here again, Grantaire?" Bossuet asked, sipping a milkshake from a bottle. 

"Ye-"

"No." Enjolras jumped in, casually setting his suitcase down. "You cannot stay here alone, Grantaire." 

Grantaire was puzzled, staring at the suitcase that Enjolras had put down. It was his suitcase. 

"If you like, you may come to my home." Enjolras offered. Grantaire watched as everyone in the room froze, their mouths falling agape. Courfeyrac stood with a smirk on his face. "But only if you would like to." 

"I would." Grantaire said, his eyes lighting up. They glistened in the sun. And Enjolras loved that. 

"Wait - you are taking Grantaire home with you?" Jehan raised an eyebrow. He had his suspicion about the pair of them. He was not stupid. And he spent the most time with them as a pair than any of their other friends. They were particularly close. 

"It seems so." Enjolras stated, blankly, before turning to go toward the bathroom and brush his teeth. 

Combeferre's parents were the ones to offer to pick them up from the school; Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Enjolras all sitting at the back of their Land Rover. Grantaire felt uncomfortable, not knowing them.

"Now that your exams are finished, I assume you will all be preparing for university." His father said. Grantaire stiffened. 

"Actually, I think we are just going to enjoy the last month of school and sort everything out in Summer." Enjolras spoke for them. Combeferre's parents were very fond of Enjolras, Grantaire could tell. And even more so of Courfeyrac. 

"Oh, that makes perfect sense." Combeferre's father said, his tone kind. "I was about to tell you all not to worry too much about university." 

"We are sure you will have done perfectly." His mother said, smiling. She was kind, her eyes a humbling brown colour. She was beautiful and dainty and kind. And Grantaire was sure she was a loving parent. Combeferre's father had contrasting blue eyes, where Combeferre got his genetics from, yet they were still kind. 

"Are your parents meeting you at our house?" He asked, breaking the non-existent silence. 

Enjolras looked up from his book, which he had been reading a while. It was a non-fiction text about the French Revolution and Enjolras was hooked. 

'I feel such a connection with the people.' He had explained one night. 'They fought against something they that were aware they could never beat. But did so so greatly that they succeeded.'

"I believe so." He replied. 

"So, René, tell us about yourself." 

Grantaire flushed, feeling awkward now that the attention was on him. Combeferre's kind smile made him feel a little easier, clearing his throat. 

"Of course, Combeferre has mentioned you before. But we would like to hear from you." His mother grinned, warmly. 

"There is not much to say, really." He shrugged. He met her eyes.

"Nonsense. Everybody has a story." She pushed. 

"My name is René." He flushed. 

Enjolras put his hand to Grantaire's thigh, the close proximity making it look normal to anyone unaware of their relationship. 

"Tell us about your hobbies, our son mentioned you are a painter." 

Grantaire looked at Combeferre. 

"I paint, yes." He nodded. "Though, I am not at all good." 

"You shall have to prove yourself wrong." She said. "I am very sure you are splendid." 

Grantaire felt a rush of glee fall throughout his body, his heartbeat calming. This was bliss, he thought. These people were loving and sweet. 

"Emeric, dear, you never mentioned that your parents would already be here. I thought you could both stay for some lunching."

"I was unaware." Enjolras gritted his teeth as they pulled up to the drive. Grantaire was shocked at how large Combeferre's house was. 

Enjolras' mother had a sweet expression, she looked nice. And she was beautiful, which explained where Enjolras got his dashing genetics from. He was charming. She was tall and slender, too. Her hair was tied up in a plaited bun, her eyes glittering with silver eyeshadow. Her skirt was a respectable knee-length pink tartan, and her white blouse was buttoned right up to her neck. 

Enjolras' father was tall, also. He was clean-shaven, blonde and wearing a suit. He had harsh features, with a soft spoken voice. 

"Emeric, darling!" His mother threw her arms around him, encasing him in her sweet scented perfume. "We have missed you."

"Son." He greeted him, with a small pat on the back. That was the extent of his welcome, though. He did not hug him. 

"Mother, Father." Enjolras started. "This is Grantaire, he is to stay with us this weekend." 

Grantaire swallowed hard, had Enjolras not told them? That was a little awkward. Enjolras' mother smiled, politely. 

"You did not mention we were to have a guest." She said, her false grin radiating her face. "I am Anastasie, this is my husband, Patrice." 

"Pleasure." Grantaire extended his hand and Patrice took it. His grip was harsh, his eyes narrowing. Enjolras took hold of Grantaire's arm, soothing Grantaire slightly. 

"So, you did not wish to return home, Grantaire?" He inquired. 

"René." He cleared his throat. "And no, I did not." 

"Why ever not, boy?" His tone was harsh and Enjolras was displeased. He pulled Grantaire away, leading him to the vehicle at the end of the drive. 

"We will see you back at school, Combeferre." He smiled. Courfeyrac pulled them both into a tight squeeze before dispersing to his own house with his parents. 

Grantaire shuffled awkwardly once Enjolras' parents got into the car, he remained silent, knowing better than to start a conversation. He spoke when spoken to with people like these. Enjolras, shyly, handed Grantaire his hand, his fingers brushing against his thigh. 

***

Enjolras showed Grantaire to his room, astonishing the brunette boy. He was aware that Enjolras' parents were well off, but he never expected anything as grand as this house. Enjolras had a castle. It was a castle. 

"Now, my parents will not be best pleased that you have to share with me but we have guests, apparently." He said, his voice mousy. "I do not know who they are but I apologise that you have to stay in my room for the duration of your stay here." 

Grantaire glared at him, dumbfounded. 

"I would have had my own room?" 

"Possibly. My parents would have dumped you in a guest bedroom on the other side of the house. Would you prefer that?" He failed to meet Grantaire's eyes. 

Grantaire giggled, lifting Enjolras' head to meet his eyes. He pushed his lips upon Enjolras' and grinned. 

"Would I prefer to be apart from you?"

Enjolras smirked, pushing Grantaire onto the bed. It was soft and the smaller boy melted into the duvet, the matress almost swallowing him. Enjolras straddled his legs over Grantaire's waist, his lips still plastered upon the other man's. 

"Emeric-"

Enjolras rolled off the bed, hitting the floor quite hard. Grantaire sat up, sniggering and crossing his legs. Enjolras' mother entered the room, a tray of food and drinks set out neatly on the silverware. She placed it upon the table at the side of the bed. 

"I do apologise again, René for your having to share with Emeric. We were unaware that you were coming." She threw Enjolras a scornful glance, before smiling at Grantaire. 

He smiled in return, speaking politely:

"It is truly no problem, madame Enjolras." He stood up, bowing to her. "I am very grateful." 

"What a polite young man you are." She smiled. "Tell me, who are your parents?" 

"You will not know them, madame." He said, plainly.

"Emeric, do stand up." She said. "We will see you at dinner." 

Enjolras clambered up from the floor, having pretended to unpack his luggage from there. Once his mother had left, he let out a sharp breath. He looked at Grantaire, who had burst into laughter and had offered him his hand. 

"It is not funny." Enjolras warned, accepting his hand and allowing the shorter man to help him to his feet. "They cannot know about this, R."

"I know, I know." He winked, jumping onto the bed again and lying down. "So, what do you do for fun around here?" 

Enjolras let out a laugh, his body finally relaxing a little. He looked at Grantaire with glee, noting the cheek in his tone. 

"René, darling, there is nothing fun around here." He put on his best posh accent.

"You do not have to try sound pompous, you already do." Grantaire teased. 

"I do not." He said, growing defensive.

"Sorry, your majesty." He taunted.

"Grantaire, so help me-"

"I jest, I jest." Grantaire sniggered, feeling Enjolras' weight crushing him. The taller man had clambered atop of him, his face directly above Grantaire's. "So, what do you do for fun around here?" He repeated, feeling the breath of Enjolras prickle the hairs on his face. 

"There is nothing fun about Chelsea." Enjolras grinned. "Except, perhaps, you." He bit Grantaire's lip. Grantaire smirked. 

"Get off me, you pompous git." He laughed. Enjolras rolled his eyes, grinning. "I noticed you have a large garden, perhaps you could give me a tour." 

"Perhaps not." Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Could we not just stay here?" 

"No, come on." Grantaire showed himself to the door. Enjolras groaned, reaching for his shoes and tying the laces. 

"I hate you sometimes." 

"No, you love me always." Grantaire put his middle finger up. "You cannot escape it." He winked, making Enjolras' heart skip a beat. 

***

Patrice sat with his hand clasped into the cutlery upon the table, his eyes scanning Grantaire with judgement. His wife sat at the opposite end of the table, her legs crossed over beneath the table. Grantaire sat opposite Enjolras, feeling uncomfortable beside a woman he had been introduced to, but forgotten the names of. To the left side of Enjolras was a man in uniform. They were guests in the house, also: a Duke from up North and his wife. 

"You did not mention we would have company." The Duke said, his voice low. Enjolras frowned at his Father, glaring at him. 

"Apologies, Emeric forgot to mention that fact." Patrice spoke, cutting his wife off. Grantaire had never felt so unwelcome in all his life. 

"Father, you are being rude." Enjolras growled. Patrice's expression was callous, his nose turning up at his son. "This is my friend, René, from school." 

"It is lovely to meet you, René." The Duke's wife smiled. 

"You too, Madame." Grantaire nodded, not removing his eyes from Patrice. 

Enjolras' mother, Anastasie, reached for the apple sauce. Grantaire noticed, even at the dinner table, Enjolras' parents knew nothing about their son. He sat with his fork in his hand, fiddling around with the food on the table. Enjolras was a vegetarian. He always had been, since Grantaire met him. And yet, he had pork on his plate like everybody else. 

"Emeric, do not play with your food." Patrice ordered, making Enjolras jump a little. Grantaire swallowed some wine, his eyes wide. 

"Sorry, Father." He sighed. He was hungry, his stomach rumbling cruelly. But he could not eat this food. And Grantaire knew. 

"You must eat, darling." Anastasie sighed. 

"I am not hungry, sorry Mother." Enjolras bit his lip. 

"If this is about your ridiculous idea that all animals feel - then." 

"They do!" Enjolras snarled. 

"I do apologise, Duke. My son has recently decided that he would not wish to eat animals. Absolutely propost-" 

"That is very admirable, Emeric." The Duchess said, her husband agreeing. "We were thinking about doing the same, were we not?" 

If Grantaire could have captured anything more hilarious on tape, he still would have decided to tape the sheer embarrassment on Enjolras' Father's face. He sank a little in his chair, clearing his throat. 

"So, René, who are your parents? Grantaire is an unusual name." 

"Welsh, if I am not mistaken." The Duke interrupted before Grantaire could speak. 

"Yes." Grantaire nodded. "Though, we live in Chester." 

"Chester is a lovely place." Anastasie smiled, meeting Enjolras' eyes. 

"What do your parents do for a living?" 

"You are being rude-" Enjolras growled, again. 

"No, it is alright, Apoll-" Grantaire coughed, hoping he had got away with that. "My Father owns his own business, he sells stationary. And my Mother was a lawyer." 

Enjolras met his eyes. He had not known this. He had never asked. And he felt terrible. 

"Very good." Patrice smiled, his approval showing with a slight nod. 

"Father is a politician." Enjolras stated, his voice cold. Grantaire nodded, sensing his hatred. 

"For which party?" Grantaire raised an eyebrow. Patrice gritted his teeth, expecting a debate. 

"Conservative." Enjolras blinked, unknowingly causing Grantaire to snigger. 

"My family are left, apologies." 

Patrice went to open his mouth, his finger rising, but Anastasie interrupted:

"Politics is no discussion for the dinner table, darling." 

Enjolras laughed, grinning at Grantaire. The dessert went down silently following that. And Enjolras was thankful that his parents could not embarrass him further. He led Grantaire back to his room and locked  his door behind them, curling up on his bed.

"Your Mother seems lovely-"

"Your Mother was a lawyer?" Enjolras quizzed, resting on his arm to look at Grantaire. Grantaire shuffled.

"Oh, yes." He swallowed. "Was."

Enjolras handed him his hand, his eyes asking the question his throat dared not to. 

"She had to leave." He shrugged. "I would rather not discuss it, though." He sighed. "If that is okay." 

"Of course it is, you do not have to tell me a thing." 

Grantaire smiled in gratitude, jumping up off the bed and opening his luggage. He threw Enjolras some sweets, crisps and a Pot Noodle. 

"You must be hungry." He winked.

"Where did this come from?" 

"I did not know if I would like your parents' food, so I brought backup." 

"You like all food, R." Enjolras nudged him as he switched on the kettle on his bedside table. Enjolras shuffled closer to him, his lips meeting Grantaire's. 

"Do not taunt me for my hunger." He laughed, pulling away from him. "I may have just saved your life." 

"You are my hero." Enjolras grinned. 

***

"I bought you a gift." Enjolras said, handing Grantaire a small box. It was cold in the Courtyard, and the boy was wearing his signature red scarf over his school uniform. Grantaire blushed, accepting the box. 

"You did not have to."

"No, I know, but I just-"

"Thank you." He smiled, putting Enjolras out of his misery. He opened the box to find a small green tie and red rose. "What is-"

"Well, prom is next week and I just thought that perhaps, maybe, we could you know? Go together?" 

Grantaire laughed.

"You are so awkward." 

"I know - I have never done this before. I just wondered if maybe-"

"Of course I will, Apollo." Grantaire laughed. "I assumed we were anyway." 

"You did?"

"You are my boyfriend, are you not?" Grantaire laughed. Enjolras' face remained still, no smile visible now. "No?" Grantaire dropped his gaze, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. "I just thought we - I apologise." 

"No, we are. I was just unaware." Enjolras said. 

"We do not have to be - I do not have to burden you with-"

"Shut your mouth, Grantaire." Enjolras pressed his mouth to Grantaire's, solemnly. "Of course you are my boyfriend." 

Grantaire felt like melting right there. Everything was perfect.

***

Joly lay back against Feuilly, his mind glad of the time he got to spend with his friends. Jehan sat beside them, Marius figgeting with a pen to his side.

"I feel awfully terrible about Éponine." The small man said, his eyes closing. "I did not know she wanted to join me at the prom." 

Jehan rolled his eyes. Éponine had been set on attending the ball with Marius as his plus one since first year. But, of course, Marius was taking Cosette.

"I had no idea." 

"You planned to go with her years ago."

"I am aware, but we were merely children." 

"Marius, you are still a child." Enjolras snarled, his nose turning up at his friend. Marius grew flustered. They had not spoken since the last argument. So neither had apologised. 

Marius frowned, throwing his pen down. 

"And I suppose you are so aware about the matter of love." 

"No, I did not suggest that. I am just saying that you must be really dim if you do not see the affection Éponine holds for you." 

"Oh, and you are so terribly aware of everyone that has an affection towards you, of course." Marius shrugged, making Grantaire blush. Marius was the first person to know about his feelings for Enjolras, being his best friend. And they often mocked one another for their love. But Marius and he had not spoken in weeks. So Marius had no right to do such a thing right now.

"I did not suggest that I was." 

"Marius, do not say anything you may regret." Grantaire said. 

"No, Grantaire. I am sorry. But he disregards you." Marius said, making Enjolras look at Grantaire with a confused expression. Grantaire attempted to stop him:

"Marius-"

"You believe yourself to be so much higher than us, so much so that you fail to see that my dear friend here is in love with you." 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. The group of friends stifled, their eyes meeting one another's with shrugs. Joly wanted to leave, Feuilly was intrigued and Bahorel shuffled. They were all aware of Grantaire's infatuation, of course they were. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were the only two to know of Enjolras' returning feelings.

"I am just saying that you are incapable of feeling anything like what I feel for Cosette. And you cannot judge me for my decisions to do with Éponine if you cannot even notice that Grantaire is in love with you." 

"Marius, I am capable of feeling." Enjolras yelled, his tone surprising even himself. Courfeyrac shuffled in his seat, uncomfortable knowing what was about to happen. 

"No, you cannot." Marius grumbled. "You are going to the prom alone, are you not? You are too blinded by social justice." 

Jehan pulled Marius back, not allowing him to crawl any closer to Enjolras. Grantaire swallowed hard, his chest feeling congested. 

"And does a love of freedom not equal the love that you feel for a woman?" Enjolras argued. And Grantaire wanted nothing more than to have him admit his love for him.

"No." Marius shook his head with a sigh. "It does not." 

"Perhaps I am glad that justice comes before all else, even that of love." Enjolras said, his words blurting out before he could think. Grantaire was hurt, feeling like his throat was about to explode. He stood up, walking out of the room. 

"Congratulations." Marius narrowed his eyes. "You have now hurt Grantaire." 

"Oh, come on Marius. You brought him into this." Feuilly said, feeling uncomfortable. Joly took a large gulp of water.

"For Christ's sake, Enj." Courfeyrac grumbled.

Enjolras bit his lip, looking at Combeferre. He mouthed 'go', desperately trying to make him follow his love. But Enjolras remained frozen in his spot. Marius stood up and ran after him. 

"You are incapable of showing any empathy." 

He stormed out, locking the door to his and Grantaire's room. Grantaire sat on his bed. 

"I know, Marius. You told me not to chase him in first year. I know that." 

Marius sighed. 

"I have not been the best friend to you." 

"No." Grantaire said. "Nor have I to you."

"I thought you and Enjolras were getting somewhere - how was it at his house?" 

"He asked me to the prom, Marius." 

"Wait-"

"We have been secretly seeing each other, in a way. But I-" Grantaire choked. "I suppose justice will always come before me." 

"No." 

"Yes." Grantaire shrugged.

"I was unaware." Marius sighed. "Oh, Grantaire, I am so sorry. I may have just ruined this for you. I did not mean to bring you into it. But he was just being so - so Enjolras. I have ruined this." 

"Not at all." He said. "You did not make Enjolras speak those words." 

"But maybe he was just trying to hide you two-"

"He should not have to." Grantaire sighed, knowing that this was, indeed, the end of the line for his fantasy. Enjolras could never love him. Not like he loves education, or his plans to bring down the government. No, Grantaire would only hold him back.

This was for the best.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. I've been so busy that I forgot to post. Sorry. Enjoy. 
> 
> Grantaire is a stubborn one. So is Enjolras. I can't keep up.


	7. Chapter Seven

***

Enjolras brushed the curls from his eyes, sighing. He had still not spoken to Grantaire since the incident and he was feeling bitter. He felt dreadful. But he was not going to apologise. In all honesty, he was unaware of what he had done wrong. They had promised to keep their relationship a secret from their friends.

"Come here." Combeferre frowned, pulling Enjolras over to the mirror and straightening his tie. "We have to wear a school tie everyday, how can you still fail to perfect your suit tie?" 

Enjolras looked down at his hands. 

"I do not know, they are too fiddly." He pouted, making Combeferre laugh. Jehan was sat gelling his hair back, smirking at them.

"You are so brilliant at everything." He said. "But you cannot do a tie." 

"No." Enjolras frowned. "Nor can I admit my feelings, that is a flaw too."

"Grantaire will get over it." Jehan said, surprising Enjolras.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, come on. Of course I know of you two."

Courfeyrac dawdled into the room, his black curls perfectly pressed to his head. He smirked at Combeferre, already melting at his beauty. Combeferre had not done his hair yet; it was still a fluffy mess. But he looked glorious. 

"I will leave you two to it." Jehan said, signalling for Enjolras to follow him. Enjolras frowned. These were his best friends, could he not spend the last few minutes before prom with them?

"We will catch you in there, Enj." 

Apparently not. He bowed, thanking Combeferre for fixing his tie. And his hair. And his boots. And his rose. Enjolras was not good at taking care of himself. That much was evident.

The hall was lit by candles, the walls plastered in white cloths and blue ribbons. Enjolras scoffed, his blue tie contrasting with the baby blue. He could not help but think about how perfectly Grantaire's eyes would match the blue decor. He pushed the thought from his mind as he saw Lamarque. 

"Ah, Emeric." He said. "No plus one?" 

"No, Sir." He said, bitterly looking around for Grantaire.

"And there was us thinking you would have found someone this year." Bossuet spoke. He had gelled his hair back, his arm interlocking with his red headed girlfriend, a yellow rose on his chest to match her yellow dress. Enjolras leant against the wall as his friends filtered in with their partners. 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac stood with him, their arms interlocked. They had both decided to wear simple black suits, with a tie of one another's favourite colours and a small flower that matched. Combeferre, of course, had a purple tie on. Purple had always been Courfeyrac's favourite colour; it reminded him of the flowers in the forest where the three of them played as children. And Courfeyrac, in turn, wore a blue tie. Light blue, like the colour of his eyes. Combeferre used to argue his favourite colour was sky blue because of the beauty of the sky at daylight. But Enjolras knew it was so because of the tone of Courfeyrac's eyes. Where Enjolras' eyes were a deep, ocean blue, Courfeyrac's were the colour of the sky. 

Enjolras had still turned up with his red tie, half hoping that Grantaire would show up with his green one. He did, but he did not say anything to Enjolras as he passed. He looked wonderful. And Enjolras wanted nothing less than to run his hand through his brown curls, or stroke his hand down his spine and relish in the scent of his aftershave. 

"Grant-" He attempted, grabbing his upper arm in desperation. 

"Do you not have some justice to be dancing with?" Grantaire spat. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he could not cope with the heartache of falling more in love with Enjolras. Not tonight. 

He looked good, though. His hair was tied up in a curly ponytail, it being long enough for such a thing. But the curls had fallen out in a perfect mess. And Grantaire could feel himself swooning.

***

"Grantaire, I wanted to apologise again, just to make sure you are not mad at me." Marius pulled Grantaire to the side, his hand resting on his shoulder. Grantaire nodded. "You are my best-"

Grantaire pulled him into a hug, nudging him slightly so much so that Marius almost lost his balance. Cosette placed her own hand upon her boyfriend's arm, stabilising him.

"Cosette, my love, this is my best friend, Grantaire." He introduced. Grantaire bowed. 

"Good evening, Madame Cosette." 

"It is a pleasure to meet you, at last." Cosette smiled, her blonde hair flowing down her back, her kind eyes and pale skin complimenting Marius'. 

"You too, I have heard a lot about you." Grantaire smirked, his eyes lighting with cheek. "All good, of course." 

"Of course." Marius jumped in. 

"Papa!" Cosette grinned, her white smile matching her white dress. 

Marius dropped his glass, his mouth falling agape. Grantaire stood beside him, his eyes almost watering at the sheer brilliance of the scene in front of him. He burst into laughter:

"This - this could only ever happen to you." 

Marius did not move, he stood frozen in his stance. He could barely believe it himself. He was aware that Cosette's father was a teacher. But a teacher at his school, no way. And the head teacher? Surely not. 

"This is classic." Joly sniggered. Enjolras bit his lip, barely able to conceal his own laugh. 

"This could only happen to you." Grantaire repeated himself, grasping his wine bottle hard in his hand. Enjolras bit his lip, scorning him for drinking so heavily.

"Marius Montpercy." Professor Valjean extended his hand out to the smaller boy, smirking. "I believe my daughter is very fond of you." 

"I am very fond of your daughter." Marius blushed, growing flustered. Cosette gave him a reassuring smile, placing her hand within his. 

"Papa, Marius is wonderful."

"I am well aware, my darling Cosette." Valjean said. "I am pleased that you fell for such a charming young man."

"Oh, Papa, I love him." Cosette was bashful, positively charged. She had not stopped smiling since she had arrived. And Grantaire envied her joy. 

"Love-" Marius coughed, his throat hoarse. 

"Do you not?" Cosette tilted her head, even now her mouth curved. 

"No, I do. I do." Marius grinned, pulling her into a clumsy hug, almost tearing her dress. Grantaire looked at Valjean to see his reaction and was surprised to see him look so proud. He folded his arms. 

"I believe we should leave these two to it." Valjean looked at him, tugging Grantaire's sleeve a little. Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows, bidding the pair of lovebirds farewell. He followed Valjean to a corner, the teacher offering him a small smile. "René, your father has been arrested." 

"Oh." Grantaire mouthed, unable to think of a different response. "Right?" 

"I was going to speak to you tomorrow of the matter. But I feel you ought to know." He said. "Your mother was attacked late last night."

"He did it, did he not?" Grantaire gritted his teeth. "My Father?"

Valjean said nothing else. And Grantaire sighed heavily. He was not there to protect her. He hated him. And he hated himself. 

"She is okay, now. Stable. You may see her tomorrow. I will take you to her, no trouble. Enjoy tonight, though. Please. And I am sorry." 

"Thank you, Professor." Grantaire bowed, taking his leave. He leant against the wall, watching as his friends danced with their loved ones. Enjolras sat with Jehan, their eyes on the dancefloor themselves. 

The ponytail Enjolras wore had fallen out, his cheekbones growing more dominant in the light. And Grantaire wanted nothing more than to hold him, hug him and confide in him. But he hated him too. He had pushed him aside. He could not forgive that. He could not forgive his Apollo.

***

Éponine's dark hair fell straight behind her back, her tan dress complimenting her pale complextion. Though she was clean, she had a naturally dark and dirty skin tone. She wore minimal makeup, her natural beauty shining through. Her dark eyes glossed as she screamed:

"Remove your hand from my thigh. Now." She growled. Enjolras turned to look at her, she was thinner than he remembered. And Monparnasse's hand was working its way up her leg, his mouth curving. "Get off of me!" She screamed as he forced her against the wall.

Enjolras raced to her side, with Jehan trailing close behind, pulling Montparnasse off her. 

"Oh look, your beautiful hero is here." He sniggered. Enjolras scowled, his teeth bearing. 

"Back yourself off now, Montparnasse." He warned, his eyes narrowing. 

"What are you going to do about it, Poncé?" He sniggered. Enjolras sighed, rolling his eyes. 

"The lady asked you to remove yourself from her." He warned, his tone harsh. Grantaire walked over, watching the situation closely through his drunken haze. Montparnasse dropped Éponine, his hand still making its way up her skirt. She squirmed, collapsing into a mess on the floor. Jehan caught her, his eyes meeting her's as she succumb to the sobs in her throat. It was all too familiar for her. 

"You think you are so big." Montparnasse spat into Enjolras' face, his hand clasping Enjolras' neck. Enjolras pressed his knee into Montparnasse's crotch, making the slimmer man falter. He dropped his hand, levering his arm and punching Enjolras straight in the nose. Grantaire pulled Montparnasse's hair,  pushing him to the floor and kicking him. 

"Prick."

Enjolras scrambled to his feet, pulling Grantaire back. The brunette refused to stop, his fists plummeting into Montparnasse's face uncontrollably. 

"Stop, Grantaire." He pleaded, trying to pull him away. Grantaire pulled away from the slim man with a twisted agenda, resulting in both hs and Enjolras falling in a heap on the floor. "Stop, R, stop fighting me." 

Grantaire continued to scrap, his eyes wide and his mind forgetting. He stood up, walking away in a drunken state. Enjolras grabbed his nose, it had bruised. He sighed, his eyes stinging with tears as he grabbed a napkin from the table. 

"Grantaire!" He tried to call after him, his voice desperate. "Put the bottle down, please." Enjolras asked, trying to grab the bottle from Grantaire. The brunette had downed an entire half a bottle of cider in the time it had taken Enjolras to catch up with him. 

"Take it from me, Apollo. Like you take everything else." 

"You are drunk, Grantaire."

"And you are boring." He poked his chest. "And you are selfish-"

"Do not start this now." Enjolras moaned, feeling Grantaire's breath on his chest. He was pleading, he realised. "Please, do not push me away." 

"You did cannot - not love anything." Grantaire cried. "You are - a prick." 

"Stop this, Grantaire." He begged. Grantaire laughed, taking another swig from the bottle of cider in his hand. He stank of alcohol, his limbs overtaken by the fume of the drug. Enjolras grabbed his wrist, snatching the bottle from him. "You have had enough." 

"You do not control me." Grantaire took it back, downing the bottle as fast he could. He hiccuped, dropping the bottle and allowing it to smash. "You do not get to control me."

"No." Enjolras shook his head. 

"And you do not get to hurt me anymore." He growled, stinging Enjoras' heart. "I despise you." 

Enjolras looked at him with sad eyes, his heart breaking in that moment. Grantaire smirked, his grin cruel. 

"I hope you know that." 

Enjolras turned away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing him upset. He raced out of the hall, his eyes threatening to spill. His bruised nose hurt no more, his chest aching so much more. Courfeyrac pushed passed Grantaire, spitting in his face:

"You are too drunk." 

Combeferre followed, frowning at Grantaire and making him feel small. The two boys found Enjolras sitting outside, his arms shaking from the cold. They each sat at each side of their best friend, holding his hands. 

"He hates me." Enjolras sobbed, stifling a further, uncontrollable cry. He wanted to drown himself in the lake to get away from this, wanted to hide away forever. He had never felt so unloved. He knew people despised him and his ideals, but hearing it from Grantaire blew a hole in his chest. He felt short of breath, like he was dying. 

"We are only at prom once, do not let him ruin this night for you." Combeferre cooed, his voice soft. Courfeyrac smiled. 

"Yes, you can stay with us." 

"And dance as we had planned to in first year." Combeferre taunted. "Though, Courf may step on your feet." 

Enjolras wiped the tears from his eyes with a sniffle, laughing. 

"You may need a trip to the hospital wing, 'Ferre. I cannot dance neither."

"Blimey, I am in for a night." Combeferre laughed as they stood. The pair of them threw their arms around their best friend, making Enjolras shiver at the overwhelming feeling of love. "Oh, and Enjolras?" 

"Yes." 

"Grantaire is just drunk." 

Enjolras nodded, unable to believe that Grantaire did not hate him. He smiled, taking his friends' hands and walking back into the party. It was late now, the party had really begun. 

"Here." Courfeyrac handed Enjolras a bottle of cider. 

"No." Enjolras pushed it away. "Thank you, but I do not-" 

"I know." Courfeyrac grinned. "It was worth a shot, though." 

Enjolras smirked, watching as his friends took the dancefloor. He stayed sat, telling them he would join them in a few minutes. He wanted to leave, if honest. He felt claustrophobic, his chest still tight in heartache. Grantaire had broken his heart. Marius and Cosette danced in each other's arms, their eyes meeting as they glided through the floor. Enjolras was happy for Marius, though he had still not spoken to him. This was the slow dance. Combeferre and Courfeyrac held each other close.

Enjolras felt a hand land on his, pulling him up. Grantaire's lips landed upon his, his tongue swirling into the back of his throat. Enjolras collapsed into the kiss, forgetting that he was supposed to be mad at this boy. The music rushed over him. Grantaire's hand ran down his spine, making Enjolras tingle. He stiffened and pushed him away.

"I thought-"

"Please," Grantaire pleaded, his eyes closing as he leant in for another kiss. His tongue missed Enjolras' mouth, a little, and drew across his face. "Dance with me?" 

Enjolras took his hand, pressing another kiss to the other man, running his fingers through his hair. The two boys found themselves on the dancefloor, Enjolras' head resting on Grantaire's shoulder, the smaller man's breathing hitching as he leant into the blonde. And forgot all of his issues for a moment.

"I love you." Grantaire cried, allowing his emotions to flow out. Montparnasse coughed, his arms crossed. And Marius pulled Cosette to the side, listening. He watched as Enjolras; the man he believed to be impossible at love, swirled Grantaire around and pulled him into a tight hug. 

"And I am so sor-"

"No, I am sorry. I was just angry - and I pushed you-"

"Do not speak." Enjolras said, pushing Grantaire to the wall and carressing his mouth, breathing slightly slower than usual. "Do not speak." He closed his eyes, holding Grantaire's face up and licking along his lips, forgetting where they were. He tore himself away, taking Grantaire's hand and pulling him behind him, ignoring the gaping faces of everyone in the room.

And Lamarque smiled to himself. 

***

Enjolras allowed Grantaire to unbutton his shirt, having already pulled his clothes off. He could feel his mind racing, his body shaking. Grantaire pulled down his trousers, revealing that, like Enjolras, he was aroused. He pressed his lips against Enjolras' again, pushing him against his headboard. 

"Are you sure you want to-"

Enjolras nodded, shivering as Grantaire's hand reached into his boxers. He let out a short breath, pleading for the smaller man to stop. But he did not. Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's curls, his feet curling as he came close. He pulled Grantaire up, not allowing him to finish. He planted a kiss on his forehead, flipping places and feeling Grantaire's slender figure as he ran his fingers down his body. 

"I have never done this before, so forgive me in advance." Enjolras said, sinking down against Grantaire's crotch, his torso rubbing against Grantaire's. He was sexually unaware. He had never done anything like this before. But he needed to show Grantaire how much he meant to him. Even if it meant coming out of his comfort zone.

"What are you-" Grantaire let out a moan, his eyes watering as Enjolras' lips surrounded the tip of his cock. His legs fell weak as he groaned, thrusting gently against the mouth of his Apollo. Enjolras' tongue ran up and down, his own crotch beating. He could feel the pulse of Grantaire grow within his mouth, hearing Grantaire's whines. 

"Am I doing this rig-"

"Yes!" Grantaire came as Enjolras continued, his voice becoming quiet. His hands grabbed Enjolras' hair, his fingers running through the curls on his head, the ponytail falling out and revealing his long blonde curls. Grantaire smiled, his drunken state now forgotten. He pulled Enjolras up. Enjolras stiffened, his eyes wide. He swallowed, glaring at Grantaire again. Grantaire's hand ran down his cock, making him cry with pleasure. He laughed, placing his mouth to Enjolras'. "Shh." 

He collapsed backwards, his heart racing. Grantaire whispered,

"Do you want to continue?" 

"No." Enjolras admitted. "I am not so interested in this part of-"

"I understand." 

"I enjoyed it. But I just-"

"I know." Grantaire smiled. Enjolras loving him was enough. 

"No, I do not think that you do." Enjolras pulled away, shuffling away from Grantaire a little. Grantaire prepared for the worst, nervous about what he was about to hear. Enjolras felt sick, he wanted nothing more than to run away from this situation. 

"You are not interested in sex, are you?" Grantaire quizzed. Enjolras let a small tear drop from his eye. 

"I know - I know you are, and I want to offer you that, I just-"

"I am not interested in making you uncomfortable, Apollo." Grantaire said, his eyes softening. "And I appreciate your caring so much for my needs. But I do not require you to do anything for me if it makes you feel uncomfortable." 

"I love you so much." He breathed, curling up in Grantaire's arms. Grantaire pulled the blanket over them both, holding Enjolras close to his flesh. 

"I love you too, Apollo." 

"I thought I lost you-"

"Never." He stroked the hair from his forehead, kissing it softly before falling asleep. Enjolras could not sleep, however. He lay there, content after pulling his trousers back up. "And you mean so much more to me than justice and politics and-"

"Apollo. Do be quiet."

Combeferre and Courfeyrac were the first to arrive back, their eyes scanning the room. The shirts lying on the floor spoke for themselves. And Courfeyrac wanted to screech in excitement. But Combeferre beat him to it. 

"You lost it?" He asked, noticing the blonde was still awake. Enjolras just stared, unable to speak. Grantaire's breathing was quiet and soft against his hair. He shook his head. 

"No." Was all he said. And Combeferre respected that he did not want to talk about it. Enjolras was like a closed book. Especially when it came to sex.

"I believe Jehan will be gone tonight." Courfeyrac explained. Combeferre out his finger to Courfeyrac's lips. 

"They do not want to hear about Jeha-"

"Who will he be with?" Grantaire sat up, his voice filled with intuition. He had, momentarily and thanks to his Apollo, forgotten about his mother. Enjolras stiffened above him, his head still placed within his crotch. Grantaire was still wearing nothing but boxers. And Enjolras felt incredibly uncomfortable knowing that his two best friends suspected that they had slept together. 

"Éponine." Combeferre grinned. "I suspected he had a thing for her everytime Marius pushed her aside - but he truly adores her." 

"Have you two sorted yourselves out?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Fuck." Enjolras yelped as he knocked his foot on the wood beside his bed, trying desperately to hide under the covers. 

"I have never once heard you swear, what have you done to him?" Combeferre asked, his mouth curving into a smile. Grantaire laughed.

"Did you sleep tog-"

"No." Enjolras rolled over, burying his head into Grantaire's torso. 

"Courf, leave them be." Combeferre said. "We are pleased you sorted it out." 

"Yeah." Courfeyrac nodded along. 

"Wait, if Jehan is with Éponine, then where is he going to stay?" 

"I assume that, after they finish dancing, then they will come back here." Combeferre told him. "They cannot get enough of one another." 

"Can I come in?" Marius' voice called from the door, making Enjolras stiffen again. This could not get any worse. 

"Of course you can, can he not Enjolras?" Grantaire asked. Enjolras glared at him from beneath the covers. And Grantaire sniggered, pushing the hair from his eyes. 

"He does not need my permission." He said, his voice mousy under the blanket. Cosette dawdled in behind him, smiling. 

"Enjolras, may I speak to you?" Marius asked. Enjolras sighed. But a small nudge from Grantaire ensured that he stood up and nodded. Marius turned to Cosette. "You will be okay here, will you not?"

"Of course." She said. Grantaire welcomed her onto Enjolras' bed, much to the blonde's dismay. He followed Marius out of the room and sat down beside him on the wall of the Courtyard. 

"I wanted to apologise to you. For everything." 

"No, Marius. You should not have to." 

"Enjolras, allow me this at least. I was unaware that you truly cared for Grantaire. He is my best friend and it always stung to see him looking so down trodden."

"I never meant to hurt him, you must understand that, Marius." 

"I do." Marius nodded. "I am so sorry for everything. I have treated you so unkindly."

"Let us be frank, I deserved it." Enjolras let him mouth turn to a smile. He wrapped his arm around Marius' shoulder. "I am glad that you found Cosette, truly." 

"Thank you."

"Though, only you could fall for our headmaster's daughter and be unaware." 

"Do not remind me." Marius laughed. 

"I am pleased." Enjolras smiled. And he was pleased, he was so happy for Marius. 

"I am happy for you, too." Marius wrapped his arms around him, taking advantage of his vulnerable state. He and Enjolras had been close since first year. They had never argued before. Clearly, the stress had got to them both. "I did not mean anything I said."

"It is all forgotten, Marius." Enjolras grinned, standing up and breaking away from the hug at last. "Let us get back to our friends." 

Enjolras and Marius walked back into the room, Grantaire and Courfeyrac sniggering. 

"I do not believe my sexual activity is laughable." He frowned at them. And then Grantaire laughed. 

"He made a joke about Marius' toes, is all, Enj." 

"What are you so insecure about?" Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. Enjolras blushed, hiding under the covers again. Cosette laughed at him, blessing him. He poked his head out of the bedding and stuck his tongue out. 

"It has absolutely nothing to do with you, Courf." 

"Oh, Enj." Grantaire laughed, laying back. 

"No, do not 'oh Enj' me, you told them." He frowned again, pushing Grantaire away from him. 

"I did not tell them a thing."

Enjolras sniggered, loosening off and throwing himself on top of Grantaire.

"I am jesting, Grantaire." He smirked. "Nothing happened, I am not a sexual person." 

"No, he is not." Grantaire winked. 

"Oh, come on!" Courfeyrac crossed his arms in a huff. "We are all friends here, what happened?" 

"Nothing." Grantaire laughed. "Literally nothing." 

"Right, Truth or Dare." Courfeyrac sat down on the floor. "Everyone is getting involved." 

"No, we are not." Marius took Cosette's hand and pulled her away from the circle.

"It will be fun, Marius." She pulled him back, kissing his hand. 

"See, your girlfriend would like to play." Courfeyrac teased, his mouth twisting. 

"No." Marius shook his head. "No, Cosette. You do not understand. They will slaughter us. Slaughter us!" 

"You are so dramatic." Courfeyrac stated, rolling his eyes. Joly, Jehan, Éponine and Combeferre all sat in thr circle. Bahorel and Bossuet sat at the side, Musichetta between them. Feuilly sighed:

"Are we actually going to do this?"

"Come on, Enj." Grantaire begged, pulling Enjolras over. Enjolras grumbled, his eyes heavy. He had, again, forgotten his insulin and had not easten at all that day. 

"Fine." He moaned, dropping down beside Cosette. Grantaire sat beside him, his shoulder feeling the weight of Enjolras' head. 

"Truth or Dare, Cosette?" Courfeyrac grinned. Marius shook his head. 

"Dare?" 

"Exciting. You are jumping into the deep end here." He smiled. "Unlike your significant other there." 

Marius stuck his tongue out. 

"I dare you to tell your father that-"

"No." Marius threw a book at his head. "Definitely not." 

"Let him finish." Cosette laughed. 

"-that you are transferring to this school." 

"Oh, yes. Do that." Marius blushed. "And then actually transfer." 

"We leave in a week, Marius." Grantaire sniggered. 

"I will do." Cosette said. "But I can hardly do that now, Papa is in bed."

It was a fair point well made, as far as Grantaire was concerned. Courfeyrac sighed, looking at Jehan.

"Truth." Jehan said, before Courfeyrac could even ask. He was silently pleading for a question that was not related to flowers or Éponine. 

"How long have you liked Ép?" 

Éponine blinked, blankly. She stared at Jehan with dark, glistening eyes. And she half expected him to say that he did, in fact, not like her. 

"Since third year, when she assisted me with my suitcase after it collapsed in on itself." He shrugged, making Éponine squeel.

"And they say romance is dead." Bossuet sniggered, biting into a chocolate bar he had just unwrapped.

"You never said anything-" 

"I did not want to burden you with it." Jehan shrugged again, making Grantaire laugh. For someone that was always reading romance novels, he was terrible at admitting his feelings. 

"It is not a burden, Prouvaire." She tugged him closer, kissing his cheek. Éponine, if honest, had always liked Jehan a little. Though, until Cosette, she had always had eyes for Marius. And it was not until tonight that she realised that she was chasing the wrong boy. Jehan had always been there for her when she needed him. He was her best friend. And she liked him for him, flower obsession and romantic fantasies and all. 

"Adorable." Courfeyrac grinned. He looked atCombeferre next. "Truth or Dare, darling?" 

"Dare." Combeferre rolled his eyes at the nickname, blushing a little. Enjolras smirked.

"I dare you to give me a kiss." He nudged him, playfully, receiving groans from the rest of the group. Combeferre gave him a quick kiss and winked, knowing that Courfeyrac loved teasing the others about being in charge of the game. He then turned to Marius. 

"I do not want to do any of your dares. Truth." 

"I dare you to go and tell Montparnasse about Cosette." 

"I said 'Truth'." 

"Boring." Courfeyrac pouted.

"Do you want to see him beaten to a pulp?" Grantaire asked, his eyebrow raising. 

"It is tempting." Courfeyrac grinned, making Marius throw a book at his head. "Violence is never the answer." 

"Yes Marius, be kind." Cosette laughed. Marius whined, hoping that they would forget about his truth. 

"Enjolras, Truth or Dare?" 

Enjolras looked up, having been distracted by Grantaire and his light breathing as he doodled on a piece of paper.

"I am not playing." 

"Yes, you are." Courfeyrac's smile was twisted, making Enjolras swallow. He often wondered why he put up with this boy. His best friend. He sighed, heavily, speaking with dread:

"Truth." 

"Ah, exciting." Courfeyrac rubbed his hands together. "What have Grantaire and yourself been up to?" 

"Courf." Combeferre hit him with a pillow. 

"Oh, come on, Courfeyrac." Grantaire frowned. "That was not called for." 

"Sorry, you are right. Excuse that. What-"

"I may have given him a little blow-" 

"Christ, Apollo." Grantaire laughed. "He just said you did not have to say." 

"They would never give in." Enjolras' cheeks were their usual pale tone, he clearly not as embarrassed as Grantaire; whose cheeks were burning. "Now, can we please drop the matter?" 

"Of course. Christ." Courfeyrac had to physically pick his jaw up off of the floor. "Was it good?" 

"Fuck off." Grantaire winged. 

"Stop this." Combeferre hit Courfeyrac. "There are ladies present." 

"Really, where?" Éponine furrowed her eyebrows. "Perhaps there is one." 

"Do not mind me." Cosette shrugged. 

"Mind me, then." Combeferre said. "Poor Enj does not want to talk about it." 

"Nor does poor Grantaire." Grantaire scowled.

"If it makes you feel any better, Combeferre and I are at it-"

"That does not make us feel any better. Shut your mouth." Enjolras whined, resting his head on Grantaire's chest. 

"Grantaire, Truth or Dare?" 

"Oh, come on." Grantaire was still flushing red. "I think that was bad enough." 

Enjolras sniggered, whispering in Grantaire's ear:

"Do a dare." 

"Dare." 

"Oh, good! I dare you to go to Montparnasse and tell him about Enjolras." Courfeyrac laughed. 

"Sod off." Enjolras grew defensive, clutching Grantaire's hand. "I know you are jesting, but this game has grown tiresome." 

"You are right, as always." Courfeyrac nodded. "Let us get some rest lads, ladies." 

Cosette and Éponine rolled their eyes, Musichetta had been long asleep. Marius snuggled up to Cosette, wrapping his duvet over her and kissing her goodnight. Éponine lay beside Jehan with her hair flowing within his. And Joly had Feuilly on his mattress with him, having refused to sleep on the floor out of fear of catching germs, both of their dates having returned home. 

"Move over." Joly moaned, pushing Feuilly over a little. "You are breathing in my face." 

"Get over it, Jolly." Feuilly laughed.

"You are gross." 

Enjolras allowed Grantaire to rest his head upon his chest, feeling solemn that they were, once more, happily together. Grantaire shook all thoughts of his mother from his mind, his body relaxing within Enjolras' grasp.

He was at peace. And he was in love.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had planned this fiction to be 8 chapters long but I have way too much to tie up to just have 1 more chapter. 
> 
> So you're all stuck with me for another 3 chapters. Yay. 
> 
> This chapter is so, so long. I do apologise. But I have so many ideas and I am terrible at condensing stories. 
> 
> Sorry, not sorry. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the final chapter of this story. I want to thank you all for taking the time to read my little drabble. I really appreciate it and hope that you all enjoyed it.

***

Valjean's foot tapped on the ground beneath him, his knock loud enough to wake everyone in the room except the one person he needed. He tried again and Combeferre opened the door, rubbing his eyes. 

"Headmaster." He said, eyes widening as he took a step back and allowed Valjean to enter. 

"Good morning boys, Cosette." He said. "May I speak with Grantaire?" 

Enjolras rolled over, shaking Grantaire awake. Grantaire moaned, his head banging. 

"Not now, Apollo." Grantaire pushed his hand to Enjolras' face, making Enjolras blush. 

"Valjean needs you, R." 

"Shit!" Grantaire threw himself out of bed, throwing on a shirt and buttoning it up. He pulled his trousers on and brushed the hair from his eyes.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows, sitting up. 

"Sorry, Professor. I completely forgot."

"It is quite alright." Valjean said. 

"Wait - can I bring Emeric?" He stopped at the door, turning to face the blonde boy, whose eyes were still heavy. Valjean nodded, making Grantaire rush over and pull Enjolras out of bed. "Come on, we have to go."

"Go where?" Enjolras asked as Grantaire brushed his clothes down, buttoning Enjolras' shirt for him. "Grantaire, will you calm down? Where are we going to in such a rush?" 

"Hospital." Grantaire said, dragging Enjolras out of the room behind him. Combeferre shrugged at his best friend as they passed, unsure of what was happening himself. 

Valjean owned a Land Rover, because of course he did. Grantaire and Enjolras sat in the back, Enjolras' eyes fixated on the small brunette boy in the seat next to him. Grantaire looked unruly and pale, similar to how he looked himself when he had not eaten enough or gotten enough rest. And he was so confused as to what was going on, unable to think of a reasonable explanation for their journey to the hospital. 

"This will be a long ride, boys." Valjean said.

"Where are we going?" Enjolras asked again, unable to keep the frustration from his voice. 

"Cardiff." Valjean said, making Enjolras' mouth fall agape, his eyes meeting Grantaire's face. Cardiff?

"My Mother is in a bad state." Grantaire said, the words all too familiar to him. Enjolras bit his lip, taking hold of Grantaire and wrapping his arm around his waist. 

"What happened?" Enjolras asked, his doe eyes glaring up at Grantaire as his head rested upon his shoulder. 

"Father, I suppose. I am not sure, really." 

"Oh Grantaire, I am sorry." 

"I just - I needed you here with me today. I hope you understand."

"Of course." Enjolras said, taking his hand. "I am here for you. Always." 

Enjolras had not prepared himself for the state that Grantaire's mother would be in, he had not ever imagined the turmoil that she had to endure would be as bad as it was. She was unconscious, her mind barely able to continue working. She looked dead, as though her body and mind had given up. But the slow beating of her heart was measured softly on the machines beside her bed, calming Grantaire a little. Her skin was pale and clammy, her eyes bruised and closed and her head stitched up. She must have been in some serious pain before blacking out. And Enjolras could barely imagine. 

"I will leave you alone." Valjean said as Grantaire stood staring at his mother; the woman that had brought him into the world so close to leaving him. "Emeric." 

"No, I would like him to stay." Grantaire took Enjolras' hand, sitting down on the seat beside her bed. Valjean complied, nodding and leaving. "Enj, this is my mother." 

Enjolras took a step towards the bed, leaning against the railing. He was at a loss of words. 

"Mother, this is my boyfriend." 

Enjolras felt a sting cut through his heart as he looked at Grantaire. He was so strong, barely wavering at the sight. It occurred to him, sadly, that Grantaire must be accustomed to this. 

"I would tell you about him. But you do not need telling." Grantaire said, his voice shaken. "For you are the one that taught me of Apollo." 

Enjolras smiled a little, his eyes closing as he listened to Grantaire's soft tones. 

"Oh mother, you will love him." 

"René-" Enjolras choked, wrapping his arm around his waist. "I am so sorry-"

"No, Emeric." Grantaire met his eyes, finally succumbing to the pain and allowing himself to collapse into the arms of his beloved. He shook. "I am." He sobbed. "This is all my fault. I should never have left her with him." 

"No, no." Enjolras knelt down beside him, holding Grantaire close to his chest. "No, René, no." 

They had never called each other by their given names. And it felt unusual to Grantaire.

"René, this is not your fault. Not at all." 

"Apollo-"

"No, Grantaire." He pressed his mouth to Grantaire's brunette locks. "You are so strong. And your mother, too." 

"It should have been m-"

"You do not dare finish that sentence." Enjolras cried, allowing his own emotions to flow out at last. His cheeks stained quickly with tears. "You do not dare."

"It shoul-"

Enjolras pushed him off of him, standing up. 

"I do not expect to hear that from you." Enjolras cried. "And nor does your mother." He backed into the wall, trying to compose himself. "You do not understand, do you? You are worth so much, Grantaire." 

Grantaire got to his feet, though shaking still, and walked over to Enjolras and fell into a hug. 

"I am sorry." 

"Do not apologise." Enjolras laughed a little. "Christ, René." 

"I did not mean it." 

"No." 

"I just-"

"I know." Enjolras wiped the tears from Grantaire's eyes, pulling him close to him again.

"Thank you for joining me today." 

"I am always there for you." He kissed him. "Always." 

Grantaire felt a rush of warmth fall throughout his body at those words. He took Enjolras' hand and led him to his mother's bedside, using his free hand to stroke the fringe from her eyes.

"She must be in so much pain." Grantaire sighed. 

"You are here for her now." Enjolras muzzled his face into the crook of Grantaire's shoulder, planting a sweet kiss behind his ear. He felt so helpless. He wanted to help Grantaire, he really did. "And you will be able to tell her all about your results next week." 

"Do not remind me." He scowled. "I think she has been through enough pain, nevermind the embarrassment and shame of having to deal with my terrible results."

"Do be quiet, you will have done brilliantly." Enjolras smiled, truly believing his words. 

Grantaire, however, was not so sure.

***

Grantaire took a deep breath, cutting the envelope in one swift move. They had agreed to open their acceptance letters together. Or rejections, he had argued. He caught sight of Enjolras, who met his eyes with a smile. But Grantaire was in no mood to smile, everything was falling apart. His mother was still unconscious, his father imprisoned. And now he was to find out he had failed his exams. 

"Good luck. Just remember, no matter where we are, we always have each other." Combeferre said, voicing everyone's thoughts. Enjolras felt sick. His parents stood behind him, their presence not helping the matter at hand. 

Grantaire swallowed, pulling the letter out in synchronisation with his friends. But he refused to look at it, instead looking at his friend's faces for their reactions. Combeferre looked content. 

"You got in?" He asked. Combeferre nodded. 

"Oxford." He smiled. Great. "Medicine." 

Joly looked bashful.

"Snap." He put his hand out, allowing Combeferre to pull him into a short hug. It was rare that Joly interacted with others, so the hug really did mean a lot to Combeferre. Until Joly pulled out his hand sanitizer. 

"Hey! Me too, except not for Medicine." Courfeyrac placed his hand into Combeferre's and kissed him on the cheek. "Well done, 'Ferre." 

"And you, Courf." 

Marius blinked. He stared at his paper in disarray. 

"I got - I got into Cambridge." 

"Congratulations!" His Grandfather screeched, almost deafening everyone around him. He pulled Marius into a hug, squeezing him tightly. Marius laughed, blushing. 

"Cambridge." Feuilly said, sighing. "I am stuck with Marius for three more years."

"You must have applied there, why do you seem so down heartened?" Joly furrowed his eyebrows. 

"Oh, just the thought of listening to Marius speak of Cosette, Christ help me." 

Joly laughed, making Marius frown. 

Grantaire turned to Enjolras, who had pulled him away from the rest of the group of friends. He was not giving away any clues, his eyes were heavy. 

"How did you do?" Grantaire asked, his voice calmer than he was feeling. Enjolras looked at him with a plain expression. 

"Oxford." He said, blankly. "To study Law." 

Grantaire was bashful, throwing his arms around Enjolras in a frenzy. Enjolras' father clenched his fists, infuriated at the pair of them and their close relationship. Though, he did not know the half of it. 

"I am happy for you, Enj." He squeezed, making Enjolras' parents feel uncomfortable. Their hands lingered a little too long for their liking. 

And Grantaire was very pleased for Enjolras. He was going to go on and do great things, studying 'Law' at Oxford was a rarity, not many students were selected to do that. Of course Enjolras had been, though. He was bright and beautiful and they would have been idiotic not to allow him in. 

Enjolras broke their connection, lifting Grantaire's chin with his hand and looking directly into his eyes. 

"How did you do?" Enjolras pined, staring at him with little sign of euphoria about getting into the most prestigious university in the country. Typical Enjolras, Grantaire thought.

"I have not looked." He admitted.

"Grantaire, you will have done fine." Enjolras clasped his hand tighter to Grantaire's. 

Grantaire was unsure, but the pleading in Enjolras' tone was enough to make him cave. He pulled the letter out of the envelope again and stared at the page, dumbfounded. 

"Aberystwyth rejected me." 

Enjolras bit his lip. 

"But I - I did not even apply to Oxford so this makes no sense." Grantaire had been accepted for Oxford University. And he could not be excited. Enjolras smiled, at last.

"You got in?" He sounded ecstatic, pulling Grantaire into a hug. 

"What did you do?" Grantaire hit Enjolras away from him. "What the fuck did you do, Apollo?" 

Enjolras' smile faded. 

"You sound mad." 

"I am." He growled. "You applied me to go to Oxford, knowing full well I wanted to go to Aberystwyth. And you did not even ask my permission."

"You hated Aberystwyth-" Enjolras pleaded. 

"Without my permission, Emeric!" He hit him, punching him straight in the nose, making Enjolras stiffen. He looked around, people were watching now. And he was uncomfortable with that. His heart was racing. "How could you?" 

Enjolras' father went to step in, until Grantaire faltered and placed his hand on Enjolras' bruising face. He tapped his forehead against Enjolras' and whispered:

"You prick, Apollo." 

Enjolras put his hand to Grantaire's, which was still stroking his sore cheek. He reached for a napkin, holding it out for Enjolras to take. He had deserved the slap. He closed his eyes, his voice mulling over Grantaire like wine:

"You are far too good for Aberys-"

Grantaire's mouth landed on Enjolras', cutting him off. He closed his eyes, forgetting the surroundings. His hand ran through the blonde curls upon his Apollo's head, his tongue circling the other man's mouth in perfect harmony. Enjolras smiled internally, pulling away from Grantaire. He had blood everywhere. But the brunette did not seem fazed.

"What do you think you are-" Enjolras' mother pulled her husband back, putting him on the leash he deserved to be on. 

Enjolras forced himself back into the crook of Grantaire's shoulder, caressing his warm skin and staining his jacket. 

"You pompous fool." Grantaire laughed.

Enjolras pulled away, his cheeks fluttering. He had flushed, his face turning as crimson as the blood that poured from his nose as he looked around to see every student looking at them. Grantaire laughed, looking at his expression. 

"Have you even seen the subject that you will be studying?" Enjolras tilted his head.

"I assumed art-" He looked at the paper, his heart racing. It read: 'History of Art'. He glanced at Enjolras. "You-"

"Two of your favourite subj-"

"You believed in me." Grantaire's tone touched Enjolras' ear as he leant into him, refusing to falter at the attention. In all honesty, it was Courfeyrac that sent the application. And Enjolras had been furious at him. But he knew it was for the best. And he changed the subject from simply 'Art', to 'History of'. "Even when I did not believe in myself."

"I believe in nothing but you." 

Grantaire squinted his eyes at him, breaking their hold. 

"Except every ideal you have: to overthrow the government, that the monarchy are abusing their power and that-"

"Oh shut up, Grantaire." Enjolras pressed his lips to Grantaire's again, his hands stroking Grantaire's back. The smaller man fell backwards on the kiss, landing against the marble wall behind him. Enjolras' tongue circled his mouth, his eyes watering. "I love you." He said, panting. 

"I love you too, Apollo." 

Enjolras took a step back, still trying to catch his breath. He threw Grantaire a death stare, his eyes narrowing. 

"Child."

"Ah, you love me." Grantaire teased, his lips curving into a cheeky smirk. "Does that make you a paedo-"

"Do not even finish that sentence." Enjolras frowned, his lips still curled upwards. His cheeks were aching from smiling so much, but he could not stop. 

"You are bleeding still." Grantaire breathed in his ear, wiping the blood that continued to pour from the blonde's perfectly shaped nose.

"Well done, my love!" Enjolras' mother encased her son in a hug, waltzing into him and pushing Grantaire out of the way. "Oxford is a wonderful school, you have done so well. Oh, honey." She took the napkin from his nose and held a handkerchief there instead. 

"I thought we told you to apply to Cambridge. It is closer to home. And a better university." His father said, his voice harsh. Grantaire stood beside Enjolras with a furious expression. 

"With all due respect, Master Enjolras-" Lamarque's voice called from behind the old man, making him jump and turn around. "-but this is a good step forward for your son. Oxford is an outstanding university." 

"As for you René, what was that out there?" He screeched, disregarding everything that Lamarque had just said. He pushed Grantaire with all his force, knocking the smaller boy back into the wall. "You do not get to poison my son's mind with your disgusting mind games-"

"Father, René is my boyfriend." Enjolras pulled Patrice away from Grantaire, lacing his fingers into the brunette's. Anastasie's eyes glistened in shock, as her husband's glare turned to hatred. 

Grantaire cowarded back, pulling Enjolras to face him. 

"Do not do this." He screeched. 

"Mother, this is my boyfriend." Enjolras ignored Grantaire's plea, his arm pressing tightly to Grantaire's. "Father." 

Grantaire's cheeks flushed a red tone, making him look the colour of beetroot. Anastasie's eyes glistened with tears, them streaming down her face. 

"Emeric - no." She cried, placing her hand to her mouth and grabbing a handkerchief to catch the waterfalls pooling in her eyes.

"You have upset your mother." Patrice growled. "And you have disgraced your family." 

"Patrice. Do shut your mouth." Anastasie's voice was cold, her eyes narrowing. She turned to Enjolras and pulled him into a hug. "Are you happy?" 

"The happiest, Mother." 

"And you, are you happy?" She asked, turning to Grantaire as she pulled away from her hold on her son. Grantaire nodded, smiling. She pulled him close to her, surprising him. "Then I am happy."

"I do not believe this - my son, my only heir, a homosexual." 

"Father - that means nothing." 

"Patrice, do shut your mouth." Anastasie growled. 

"A moment, if I could?" Professor Lamarque tapped on Enjolras' shoulders. Enjolras nodded, smiling as he walked to a corner with his favourite professor. He glanced back to see his Mother hugging Grantaire close. "You love him, yes?" 

Enjolras met the old eyes of his professor, his face faltering into a smile. 

"I do, yes." He nodded.

"I am very proud of you, Emeric." He beamed. "You have grown so much this past year. And you will continue to thrive in the near future. You will be the light to so many in darkness." 

"Tha - thank you, Professor Lamarque." Enjolras choked, feeling a lump in his throat. 

"I am incredibly proud to say that you are a student of mine. Both yourself and René." 

"And I am humbled to have had you as a tutor." 

"You are too kind, Emeric. I did not teach you much. You learnt most of your exam material yourself. I merely gave you a nudge towards the right person." He signalled to Grantaire, making Enjolras look over to his boyfriend. Grantaire stood with a smirk on his face, catching Enjolras staring and making the blonde blush. Lamarque smiled, backing away. 

"But Professor, we never did give our assignment in-" Enjolras turned back to where his professor had been standing. "Oh." 

Lamarque had pushed him towards Grantaire. That was his assignment. 

Damn fool. 

"What did Lamarque want?" Grantaire skipped over, making Enjolras jump as he took his hand. 

"Nothing much." The blonde smiled, pulling Grantaire into a hug. "I am so glad you are coming to Oxford with me, I could not do this without you." 

"Stop being soppy, Emeric." Grantaire winked, nudging him slightly. 

"I mean it, though. You better me." 

"Shut up." Grantaire ran his finger across Enjolras' lips before planting a light kiss upon them. "Come on, our friends will wonder where we are." 

Enjolras smiled, looking down at their interlocked hands. He was safe and he was home here: in Grantaire's presence.

***

Combeferre's eyes glistened at the sight in front of him; the university looked of high calibre quality and he felt a rush of warmth rush over him. This had been his goal since day one. And he was filled with pride. 

"We are so proudof you, love." His mother cooed in his ear. 

Grantaire dropped his bags at the side of him, glaring at the gates in disbelief. He was unable to comprehend how he got here. He turned to Enjolras and smiled. 

"Welcome home." He heard a familiar voice say, making him shiver. He turned back to face his mother and ran into her arms. She was doing well now that his father had been convicted. Her blue eyes glistened in the autumn sun. "I am so proud of you." 

"I am proud of you." Grantaire grinned, his crooked teeth present. Enjolras looked down at his hand with a loving smile. 

"And you, thank you." Grantaire's mother took the blonde's hand. "For loving my son." 

"It is no difficulty." Enjolras smiled. 

"You do not have to lie to me. René is a chore." She teased, nudging her only son with a grin. 

"Are you ready?" Enjolras offered Grantaire his hand. The brunette nodded, taking a step towards him. 

"I am." 

And they walked into Oxford University together. Hand in hand. How it was always meant to be; ready to face the injustices of the world together. 

"How do you think Joly is doing with Marius?" Combeferre asked.

"Terribly, no doubt." Courfeyrac smirked. "Cosette will be there to help him, though."

"That is probably the issue." 

"Love makes Marius do wierd things." Grantaire said.

"Love makes us all do odd things." Enjolras said. 

"You love me." Grantaire winked.

"Incorrect, I hate you too." Enjolras said, stone faced. Grantaire laughed;

"Ah, there is a very fine line between love and hate." 

"And do we not know it." Enjolras wrapped his arm around Grantaire's waist. 

There was a fine line between love and hate. Lamarque had taught him that. And he was thankful.

For he loved Grantaire.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again. I wrote this mainly for myself. Because I had so many ideas and wanted to put them into a story. The relationship between Grantaire and Enjolras is a beautiful but complicated thing. 
> 
> And I just hope I did them justice. 
> 
> I will miss writing about their arguments, those were always the most fun to write because you could always see that, really, deep down, they hated hurting each other.
> 
> Ah, love. 
> 
> I would really appreciate any feedback from you about this story so I know how to improve for future stories. Because this will definitely not be my last Grantaire/Enjolras story. I may, if you guys would like me to, even write a follow on story to this one about Les Amis' time at Oxford and Cambridge. 
> 
> Thank you again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my fiction so far, I will be updating as frequently as possible for you all. 
> 
> I am so excited about this story.


End file.
